Unpredictable
by hallythelantern
Summary: Marinette has visions: random flashes of images in her mind that appear at any time of the day. They all feature different characters and settings, each one as different from, if not more, than the last. However, when she meets a certain blonde-haired, green-eyed man, she finds her life changing in a way that she would never have expected. Soulmate AU. Rated T for possible swearing
1. Random

_**A/N:** ** _I_ was looking at the Miraculous Fluff Month prompts when I saw Day 11's prompt, which was first kiss. I thought about doing something different from what one would usually think about when we usually think of a first kiss featuring Adrienette, and I eventually ended up using one of my old ideas on how Marinette would get images flashing in her head randomly (if i tell you more though, it would be spoilers) and created this monster.**_

 _ **I'm thinking that it could be a two-shot or a three-shot. I am not exactly sure at this point.**_

* * *

Marinette was clumsy but for the wrong reasons.

It wasn't that she lacked coordination, by any chance. No; when she set her mind to it, she had the capacity of being extremely graceful, or so she had been called.

She still remembered taking gymnastics as a little girl. The coach had showered her with praise, excitedly talking about how she could create a star out of the blue-haired six-year-old within ten years time, all the while spewing the word like it was the answer to all of her problems. The amount of gushing and expectations (that had been already set ridiculously high) had only increased as the years went by, she remembered with both fondness and a bad taste in her mouth. Fond because she was able to push her body to her limits and be around girls her age that wasn't Chloé, bitter because throughout these years of being constantly pushed to her limits, Marinette regularly faced envy and jealousy from her fellow classmates.

Gymnastics was part of what had made Marinette _Marinette_ , from the sheer dedication and work ethic she possessed when determined, to her overly accommodating nature that always put others above herself first.

However, outside of gymnastics, she always had and still did trip in midair or wandered about with a "lost look" in her eyes, as everyone liked to say, with seemingly no apparent purpose to outsiders. When contrasted with the seemingly effortless grace she possessed in competitions, this unexpected clumsiness, as people liked to call it, only served to baffle people. How could, they thought, such a talented gymnast be so clumsy?

Some people thought her clumsiness outside of gymnastics as endearing, while those with more malevolent emotions towards the bluenette claimed that she had been only doing this to get attention, and Chloé had definitely been part of the latter.

However, Marinette did not blame them for being so surprised. One time, the designer had almost walked in front of a red light. Had her best friend Alya not yanked Marinette back with a certain kind of practiced panic in her face, Marinette would have been roadkill - literally.

Such happened so frequently that the red-head occasionally joked that being Marinette's best friend required one to be somehow related to a bodyguard. Whether that meant that the person was a family of one, was one, or had been one in a past life, it did not matter. The only thing that was required of them was to "protect precious Marinette" from getting "steamrolled by the cold, unfeeling world," as Alya had said to the blue-haired girl on a slumber party night.

Of course, Alya did not _actually_ believe in past lives and only had mentioned that in passing, as her best friend was one of the most practical people Marinette had ever had the pleasure of meeting. But ever since Alya had uttered those words, the concept had fascinated the blue-haired girl and created a fire within her, a fascination that always seemed so out of reach to fulfill yet always there.

She had never gone out of her way to research about reincarnation or any other popular theories, however. She was perfectly fine with not knowing whether or not reincarnation held veracity. She was a simple girl with a simple life, she liked (and simultaneously disliked) to tell herself. Thus, she didn't _need_ to know the deep mysteries of the universe. She only needed to know the ones that mattered to _her_ , were _her_ own deep secrets of her own universe. Whether or not that coincided with the "truth" was an afterthought to Marinette, and so she had never been the one to subscribe to all the works on spirituality.

Many would have considered her a fool who just didn't want to face the truth had they learned this about her. However, Marinette didn't really _care_ about those haughty opinions. She doubted that everyone could have the exact same truth when each individual's experiences were so _different_ from one another, after all. Everyone had basic commonalities, yes, and there was a likelihood that there would be one cohesive truth that tied everyone's truth together. The only difference in each person's interpretation, then, would be the fact that they were accessing the truth from a different angle. But what difference was there if yin and yang were the ultimately the same? People saw them as opposite forces, and if one didn't dig deep enough to see that it was, indeed, ultimately the same, they fervently believed in duality. Plus, the more general you became, the less personal and warm it became.

And as Marinette was a simple girl with a simple life, _personal_ was practically her middle name.

In fact, she sometimes hated the fact that she took everything so personally. When a baby cried in the street after she had walked by them, she would think to herself that it was her doing. When a girl in her gymnastics class had given her the stink eye (which was likely from unwarranted jealousy, a fact she had to remind herself every time she beat herself up about these kinds of situations), she would immediately think to what she had done wrong to warrant such a response. When a ball was suddenly thrown from the left field of her life, she chastised herself for not seeing the hit coming when, looking back, it had been so _obvious_.

Even when Alya consoled her, saying that Marinette couldn't have _possibly_ seen that coming and that it was _truly_ unexpected to everyone, it did not help the bluenette feel any better. Expect the unexpected, the famous saying went, and Marinette always tried her hardest to live up to that motto. She had to be prepared for everything, at least mentally, because if she wasn't, she didn't know _what_ she would do. She hated to even think of accepting the fact that there were always going to be unexpected situations in her life, no matter how much she could expect. So, she fervently denied it.

However, if one looked at her life in depth, even the mere thought that Marinette didn't accept the unexpected would have been _laughable_.

Because like the saying that went "the only constant in life is change," the only constant in _her_ life was the unexpected.

There just wasn't another way to explain it. How was one to explain otherwise the visions that suddenly flooded her mind whenever she was working on a design, running to class late, or doing just about anything, really - _including_ breathing, eating, and pooping? Maybe dreaming was the exception, but she didn't think that one counted.

And what frustrated her to no ends was that there was no _pattern_ in _when_ it appeared and _what_ appeared in her mind's eye. She had had visions that she traced back from the fifth century to something that could only be described as the future (how _else_ was she supposed to explain flying cars?), and they were never thrown together chronologically but always haphazardly, as if a movie maker had gathered the footages for a montage but had misplaced the script that contained the directions, and so had thrown together whatever it was from panic.

Wait, No. Scratch that.

There was _one_ pattern.

But she wasn't sure if she should appreciate this one familiar thing in the sea of unfamiliar. After all, this didn't make the situation any less complicated.

In fact, this situation made her even _more_ confused. It made her head spin with all her speculations as to why such visions were being shown in her head than giving her the answers she desperately wanted.

Because how could one _not_ consider the concept of soulmates if the only unifying theme in all her visions was that she was either waiting for somebody or had someone by her side?

It was either that, or the universe was trying to punish her for being single…

By flooding her mind with couples doing couple things…

Yup. She was probably right on this.

Like with the settings, her appearance (from what she could gather from their eyes) and her partner's always changed in her visions. In any of them, she saw how the height and body of the ones beside her constantly changed and how it moved differently from the one before. Different bodies, different people.

However, there was another strange pattern in all of this, she noticed now: she never could see her partner's face nor her own when it was reflected in rivers and mirrors and the like.

Something about the face was off limits to her, for whatever reason. The face, when she believed that she was finally able to see them, somehow blurred in edges and color as the face became a terrifying mosaic of a humanoid blank face.

It was as if even daring to find out their faces was a huge crime or sin.

When she had seen that, Marinette had been, at first, expectedly, _terrified_. She had cried and wished for the visions to go away, for it to never return from her life like an abandoned broken record ever again. She remembered that she had been eight then, and she had tried telling her Maman about the problem. Her mother had only rubbed not-so-soothing circles on her back and cooed at Marinette that it was all just a dream and that those things don't exist, and maybe _this_ had been when she had realized that none had her experiences. Whichever way, however, Marinette had refrained from even getting close to seeing the neck, when suddenly, with the onset of teenage puberty, she felt a seething fire in her that threatened to tear everything down - or at least die trying.

She was never a rebellious kid when she had been young. On the contrary, Sabine and Tom had always been praised that her daughter was so well mannered. But something about this, something about the visions made her not able to stand the prospect of losing even more than she normally did.

And so, reflecting her skin that was popping up acne in rebellion to all the hormones her body was producing, Marinette had tried desperately to look at the faces whenever she got her visions.

It had turned out _splendidly_ , she _so_ very much liked to remember. And by splendidly, she meant not well at all.

It was only after around her twentieth try that she had realized that her visions were, in a way, a force to be reckoned with. She had known this before, of course, and had been fearful of what gruesome images her young mind could create for herself. However, after fighting it for so long, Marinette had gained a very strange sort of respect for the visions that were swimming in her head that she had never possessed before. She still couldn't control it, of course, as they were _truly_ unpredictable. They came at random intervals of the day, on random days of the week, at any random moment with random images from a random time period. However, she was able to cope with it far better than she had ever had, never fearing it for what it was, just letting it come and go.

She didn't know when she had figured out that no one else but her had these experiences. Maybe it was obvious with how no one else around her seemed to trip on their own two feet, or maybe it had taken her a traumatic encounter with someone to finally piece together the truth. However, Marinette did not remember the time she had learned this fact. Maybe it had been from very young like when she was maybe four - even as young as two. Maybe it had been when she was thirteen. Maybe she had always known that she was different. She wasn't sure.

Sometimes, she wished that someone could share her inner freakishness with her. But then, she would set that frosty sentiment aside. She wasn't sure if she wanted to force someone into the kind of the more terrible visions she had experienced in her past. Pre-teen and puberty had not been fun years for Marinette; one was not a _personal_ person without almost fainting at the vision of blood from a war at the hearty age of eleven. It had visibly shaken her up, and the worst thing had been that she couldn't even tell her parents what it had been about.

Because the truth was, she didn't know what _any_ of this was about.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the one who was cursed to have such visions in the first place, did not even understand what was happening to her mind after living inside it for eighteen years.

And that thought was enough to send her into a frenzy, a kind of existential crisis that ranged from questioning her sanity to whether or not _anything_ existed in the world. Was she just… she didn't know, a puppet that was doing the bidding of something bigger than herself? Or was she even existing?

Then, she would lift herself back up from where she had been, cutting her string of thoughts. She shoved it to the back of her mind, where she thought that it would never have the audacity to show up to her conscience ever again.

Of course, Marinette's life was never hers without something unexpected happening in her life, and so she grappled with the invasive and corrosive thoughts sometimes when she had too much time on her hands.

No. Marinette decided. She would not want to wish that onto another person.

But then again, who guaranteed that their mind would work the same way, even if they had the same problem as she did?

Who guaranteed that they would have mind problems like her and react the same way as she did? Marinette was famous for spinning webs of her own demise, and her "clumsiness" did nothing to alleviate that.

Could be coping with it a lot better than she ever had.

They could also be better hiding their freakishness, she supposed, that made people not look at them with strange looks in their eyes.

But if they could, were they _really_ like her? How would she know that they had the same experiences as her, in a similar way?

She pricked the needle on her index finger, the pain snapping her out of her thoughts. With a huff, she inserted her finger into her mouth and licked the bleeding with her tongue, soothing and cooling the pain with her saliva. She glanced a look at the half-finished bowler hat, her entry for the Gabriel contest. Luckily, creating clothes and hats were second nature to Marinette that she could space out for enormous amounts of time without making any fatal mistakes, but she had just pricked her finger - something she hadn't done for a while. Fearing and panicking over the fact that she might have to do it _all over again_ \- and the deadline was three days later, which meant that she would in no way be able to finish if she screwed this one up - she checked the hat just in case any mistakes in putting on the feather had been made. She only satisfied herself when she rotated the hat twice - no, three times - and saw no flaws.

Sighing of relief, the designer consumed herself into her work yet once again, only this time forbidding her thoughts from wandering. She hummed and sang to keep herself grounded, not wanting a repeat like last time.

She finished the bowler hat at one in the morning, her eyes widening when she finally looked at the clock. Was it really that late? She had thought that - no, she decided that the clock was working perfectly fine, judging from how dark her window was - it was only nine PM or so.

She had been too preoccupied with the bowler hat, it seemed. She had started at six PM, but she didn't even _remember_ so much time passing by. And she thought nine PM was being generous!

…

…

 _..._

She had skipped dinner again, hadn't she?

* * *

Unlike the visions she had while she was awake, however, Marinette knew that her dreams were nothing special. She occasionally got outlandishly vivid dreams every once in a while, but they never had the emotions that were attached to her visions. Her visions only flashed by her, the sight and emotions disappearing as soon as she blinked, leaving her disoriented when it did finally end. In contrast, her dreams were honest, they were fluid, and they were _predictable_.

She always had a hunch on what her dreams meant, in great contrast to her visions. And if she was confused on what to think of her dreams, she just Googled dream interpretations, read the symbolisms, and worked her way from there. She found it reassuring that the deep part of herself that she was so fully acquainted with was unpredictably predictable, unlike the predictably unpredictable quality that her visions had. Thus, she considered her dreams like a puzzle. It was begging to be cracked, to reveal bigger truths about herself. As for the visions, they were a mystery, an unknown that she didn't know if she _wanted_ to crack open.

Thus, she went to bed dreaming of a world where her outer world was like her inner world.

* * *

"Marinette! Wake up!" the voice invaded her dreams. "We need you to do some errands today, dear. You're going to be late!"

The eighteen-year-old girl yawned as she detangled the sheets. "Coming, Maman!" she said, as she made her way down to the kitchen. Eyes drowsy and half-asleep, Marinette munched on her croissant with loose fingers around her breakfast, slowly opening and closing her mouth repeatedly to chew. The gesture felt unfamiliar to her, even though she had woken up late on mornings and ate croissants like this more than she could care to count. Her mouth felt dry as she chewed the food, and she felt as if she was poisoning the poor croissant with her bad breath.

After three-quarters of a way in into her croissant, her mother handed Marinette a piece of paper.

"These are the ingredients that we need you to pick up today," the petite Chinese woman said. "Think you could handle it?"

Marinette looked at the list. It was heavy, but she had grown up carrying bags of flour. "Of course, Maman," she smiled.

"Thank you, Marinette," Sabine said and pulled her into a hug. Marinette let herself relish the warm embrace of her strong mother; her small frame only _belied_ how truly strong she was.

Her mother was the first to pull away. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked Marinette. "Go!"

Marinette smiled at that. She walked towards the door, which was not too far away from the kitchen. "Bye, Maman," she waved.

"Come back by dinner time," Sabine smiled. "And _eat_ it this time, please?" she teased.

Marinette's cheeks reddened with embarrassment. "Bye, Maman!" she slammed the door. A flutter of noises and crashing ensued.

"Ah," Sabine sighed into her tea and shook her head fondly. "Kids."

* * *

 _She shook off the sand in her foot as she dusted off the spotted dress that went down to her ankles with her hands. Her jet black hair followed the wind's motion._

 _It was as if even her body was pointing towards the other side, toward her other half. To make sure that he was alive, that he was alright._

 _But, she bit her lip, no. She had to trust him._

 _However, when sunset came, her worries only grew._

" _Plagg!" she yelled into the other side of the river. She walked as close to the water as possible without getting wet. "Plagg! Are you there?"_

 _Uncertainty plagued her. Had he made it out safely? What if he had…_

* * *

Marinette tumbled down the blurry stairs, crashing into what felt like a wall. After a whimper of pain, she uprighted herself and dusted her white, long-sleeved off-the-shoulder peasant top and pink jeans. She even dusted her black belt just in case. Then, she remembered the piece of paper that had the list of supplies the bakery needed and sighed with relief when she found out that it had not been too far away from her.

 _What_ was _that?_

She had never had a vision that had been longer than a second, and this one had been almost three! Not to mention the fact that this one had _spoken_!

She… she had never had visions that had spoken before. No, she had thought that her visions were like a long-running silent film or a collage of pictures. Quiet, maybe sometimes moving but not significantly, and always in the first person.

She speculated what this could mean for the entire ten-minute walk to the store.

* * *

The trip did not take long, she supposed as she carried the bag of flour that threatened to uppercut her chin. She raised up her right hand where her pink purse, which she had made a few years ago, was threatening to escape from. Consequently, the purse fell back closer to her elbow, only to slowly climb down to her wrists as she walked.

She hummed quietly as she made her way back to the bakery, her purse swishing to and fro as she evaded the typical pedestrian traffic in Paris. She was a quarter done with her errand, she thought with glee. If she hurried, she might be able to hit the fabric store and get the supplies for her newest dress.

Fantasizing about a romantic ball where she would wear her (soon-to-be) newest creation, Marinette was not looking where she was going (instead, hoping that others moved for her) and slammed into a tall body, both colliding to the ground with their hips from the shock.

"Sorry, sorry!" Marinette squeaked. "I-should-have-been-looking-where-I-was-going," she said the words in rapid succession.

"N-no!" Marinette didn't know why, but the voice was familiar to her. "I should have been the one paying attention." The comfort it provided to her was jarring; it was as if she had known the voice all along.

They both raised their heads up to see each other. Marinette gasped.

The man - or boy? He looked around the same age as her - had blond hair that glistened from the sunshine as his clear green eyes danced with surprise. He looked at her up and down, as if in disbelief, and just stared at her, astonished.

Something about the male in front of her _screamed_ that he was familiar to her, that she had seen him before - no, it was more than that. It was as if she had known who he was - mind, body, and soul - and she knew that he knew who she was. It was a very strange and hard feeling to describe, but Marinette felt comforted by his presence; it was as if an ice in her heart that she hadn't known existed before was instantly thawed by meeting him face to face, eye to eye. She felt that whoever this man was, he was important in a way she did not fully understand herself.

The way he gaped at her also gave her the strange feeling that he felt the same.

He blinked once. No, twice.

She stared into his eyes, which were a lovely pure color. There was no saturation at all, and the green only made the irises stand out even more, giving his eyes a magnetic and overall appealing effect.

It was the kind that the fashion industry _craved_ for.

She tried to give a smile to him when a succession of images flashed in her mind, which she all recognized as having appeared in her visions before. It made her head swim with dizziness and her body sway back and forth.

Thankfully, she didn't collapse and her body stood upright, but that was because of the man in front of her, who was steadying her by the arms.

The places where he touched her burned.

"You-uh… you okay?" he breathed. He had steadied her with his hands.

She nodded absently. Her eyes held no light because of the sheer shock her visions blinded her.

"Uh…" he scratched his nape, cheeks reddening. "That's good. I-uh…"

However, she didn't hear what he was saying. She turned the other way and ran.

"Wait! Where are you going?!" he called after her. "Wait! I need to speak to you. You… no, uh... Ma… Mari... Marinette!"

 _What?_

Did he just say her _name_?

But that was impossible… he… he just met her! How the hell did he know her _name_? She didn't have a name tag on her, and Marinette wasn't a common name at all!

Was he a stalker? How much did he know about her? Oh god, what if he was in _love_ with her? Would he ransom her family with the price of her marriage?

"Marinette, please wait!" the man called after her. It sounded desperate, with a hint of fear of abandonment that couldn't possibly have developed with just this meeting.

His voice only made her run faster.

* * *

Nothing else abnormal happened afterward, which Marinette thanked the heavens for. She had had enough of the weird today.

Whatever had happened back there - whatever it was - had been _unpredictably_ _unpredictable_. She had never thought that multiple visions could flood her mind, never mind the fact that they were all old ones! She always was bombarded with new ones as she went on in her life. Why was this one different?

She went to bed, her thoughts rustling in her head as they numbed her head to sleep.

* * *

 _She was on a boat, looking out at the city. Her head was leaned back onto a shoulder, and her shoulders leaned on his arm. They were warm and snug here, looking out at their city and watching the rays of the sun hit the buildings as she yawned into the sunset. The man sitting next to her wrapped an arm around her shoulders and chuckled, his shoulder moving up and down as he did._

 _It was of the unrestrained kind that she loved to see on him, which were nothing like those model smiles that he put on for show. He was beautiful like this, she thought as she looked at him with sleepy eyes. And she was incredibly lucky to be able to see it._

 _He rubbed his nape in that characteristic and endearing way that revealed embarrassment, and his eyes spoke of worry but also determination._

 _She briefly wondered what he had to say that would make him so flustered, so red in the cheeks, when he spoke._

" _So, uh, Marinette-" the man began to speak. "I know that I should have asked you this a couple of dates ago, but uh…"_

" _Yes?" she asked, her head still on his shoulders._

" _Would-you-be-my-girlfriend?" he said in rapid succession._

 _At the words, her breath hitched and her heart beat faster. Even though they were in the Seine at six thirty in the morning, both almost about to pass out from their lack of sleep, she was warm in her cheeks and everywhere else._

 _She beamed._

 _She knew that she was his and that he was hers. He knew it too. But to make it official…_

" _Yes, Adrien," she breathed. "Yes."_

* * *

She uprighted herself from her mattress, trying to make sense of just _what_ she had dreamed.

What… _what_ had just happened?

 _Why_ had she dreamt about that man? The man she had bumped into yesterday? She had seen the dream so vividly that she could still remember it, and she was very sure that she would remember it for days, if not weeks.

She groaned. There was _no way_ that she could have a crush on him. Sure, he was good looking, but that mattered none! She didn't even know what the guy was _like_ , whether he was nice, or anything! She knew _nothing_ about him, save for that he knew her name for some creepy reason!

…

 _How_ did _he know her name?_

And why had she had those visions right after she had bumped into him?

… it was a coincidence, right? It had to be! They _literally_ had just bumped into each other. And besides, no one so far in her life had triggered her visions; they were just random. That was the rule for her visions: be as random as possible.

But _why_ had she dreamt romantic fantasies of him?

She wanted to die in shame.

* * *

With the utmost care, Marinette wrapped the box and taped the address on. When she was satisfied that the paper did not look crooked or bent in any corners, she picked up the box and hugged it to her chest. Even though she didn't think that the judging committee would even look at the packaging, the presentation was important, and she hoped that they would like her design.

A deep sigh later, she picked up her phone with the other hand and dialed her best friend.

 _Ring…_

Her best friend picked up on the second ring.

"Alya?" Marinette asked.

"Marinette? What's up?"

"Well…" Marinette began. Tapping sounds were heard from the other side of the phone. "I finished my bowler hat for the Gabriel competition," she began.

"Great!" Alya beamed. "When are you going to turn it in?"

"Right now. I finished packaging it. I licked the stamp and everything," she chuckled nervously. "Can you come over?"

"Of course!" Alya said as the phone hung up.

Marinette smiled as she pressed the end call button. She was extremely lucky.

Having Alya by her side, even when her best friend was not giving encouraging words to the designer, always gave Marinette an extra boost in confidence.

And this was _definitely_ the time that Marinette needed Alya by her side.

* * *

Marinette stared at the box, which was nestled safely in her arms. She then looked up to see the mailbox, which was looming over her.

It was so _big_.

Too big for a simple girl like her.

She then looked out of her peripheral vision for her best friend, who had that ever encouraging smile on her face. "Come on, Marinette!" Alya said excitedly. "I can't take the suspense."

"But…" she looked down at the box again. "What if it's not good enough? What if it gets damaged on the way there? What if it-"

"Girl," Alya rolled her eyes. "I'm _sure_ that _Gabriel_ would not let that happen. You're fine, girl! That hat is one of the _best_ hats that I have _ever_ seen in my life, and I _know_ that this is one of _your_ best creations. Just believe in yourself," she grinned, touching Marinette's shoulders for comfort and support.

At Alya's encouraging smile, Marinette felt her lips tighten up.

"Okay." Marinette decided and took a deep breath. She huffed it out of her nose, relieving her stress at the same time as she did the carbon dioxide. It would have been comical, the sheer volume of air she emitted, had it not been under such situations. "I'm going to do this."

She heard Alya squeal.

Slowly raising her shaking hands and ignoring a sudden slam in the brakes nearby (she hoped there wasn't an accident), the designer paused at the opening. It was big enough for the box to fit, she knew, but was it big enough for the company?

She closed her eyes and pushed the package in, letting her hands do the work.

The inside of the mailbox rattled in a satisfying thump thump thump. _Thump thump thump,_ her heart still went.

At the sound, her mind finally registered what she had done. She broke into a huge grin.

"Alya!" Marinette giggled as she jumped up and down. "I did it!"  
"Yeah, you did it, girl!" Alya grinned as Marinette leaned into Alya's space to give her a hug. Alya immediately reciprocated the hug, and Marinette leaned her head slightly into her best friend's shoulders, facing the neck.

"Thanks to you, Alya. I don't know if I would have even _lived_ without you calling me in the night to remind me to eat," she chuckled at the memories.

Alya laughed. "Someone's gotta watch out for you."

Marinette laughed at that.

But she was snapped out of her reverie when she saw a figure standing stiffly in the streets from above Alya's shoulders.

It was _him_.

She didn't know why, but he looked… uneasy and uncomfortable.

She broke off the hug and approached him with wariness.

"Hey," she said with worry. "Are you okay?" She frowned.

His shoulders were too stiff, his hands were too close by his sides, and his frown-turned-grin was too wide. His eyes occasionally darted back to a silver car, which she guessed was his ride.

"Of course!" he said a little too loudly and enthusiastically as his eyes darted back to the car. "I'm doing _great_. Why wouldn't I be?"

 _He's terrible at lying and hiding his emotions._ She mentally put that information away.

She chastised herself. What was she putting that away _for_ , exactly?

"Okay," she said, still not convinced. She gave him a reassuring smile. "I hope you feel better." _Stupid,_ she thought to herself.

The man only gave her a shy smile. "Thanks," he said with a forced grin on his face. "But I-uh, I need to get going." He walked over to the silver car, which was not that far away from him. But he paused. "I'll see you later, Marinette?" he said with some uncertainty in his voice.

"Uhhhh…" she began. "Okay," she finally said.

She was immediately pulled back into her mind after his driver had driven away with him in the backseat.

 _What_ was _that?!_

* * *

After having a fun girls' night out with Alya and remembering to eat dinner, Marinette ate a light dinner and climbed into her bed smiling, suffocating her face in her pillow with the glee that she had yet shedded from her system.

She had submitted her entry for the Gabriel competition, and now it was finally out of her hands. She just hoped that they would like it; she had spent two _hours_ gathering feathers.

She removed the pillow from her face and set it aside, letting her thoughts stray towards the strange blond man. Why had he been so upset? Was he okay? Was it something that was only temporary or was it something ongoing? Was he unhappy in his life? If so, why?

And he had been so hopeful that he would meet her again that she couldn't refuse him when he was making his way to his car. Maybe he lacked company? Was that it?

And was he someone important or something? Normal people didn't ride around the streets of Paris with drivers. Most chose to walk, take the subway, or use the bus. But he was in a fancy looking car with a driver at his beck and call.

He likely was rich.

Then wouldn't he just hang out with other rich people? Why would he want to hang out with her?

How far did he go to know her _name_?

Why _her_?

She was just a baker's daughter. She assumed that the wealthy would stalk the wealthy while the simple would stalk the simple.

It made no sense; none of his actions made sense.

She fell asleep trying to make sense of it with no success.

* * *

" _Impressive ship you got here," she said to the curly haired man as she touched the railings. "Although it wouldn't last too long in war, I'm afraid."_

" _Well," the man said, "I'm not here for war," he smiled, "and it holds off fine on short expeditions. Very fast, too," he chuckled, grinning fondly at some memory that she had no part in._

" _Quite the peace lover, aren't you?" she teased, laughing. She knew fully well that that was_ far _from the truth._

" _Contrary to popular opinion," he laughed, "I actually am. I only do what I do because there's always_ something _preventing me from reaching my goals," at the word, there was an unexpected chilliness that made her spine shiver. And it took a lot for her to be fearful._

" _Well, then, I must not get on your bad side, yes?" she asked. "Nothing could be worse than turning the human manifestation of destruction into your enemy."_

 _He raised a brow. "I thought you Amazons loved that kind of thing? Conquering enemies, going to war, bringing the strongest down to prove a point."_

 _She laughed. "Of course we do. But we do not attack on home territory unless it is absolutely necessary."_

 _He tilted his head back and grinned widely. "Even savages have a sense of morals, huh?"_

 _She snorted. "Look_ who's _talking."_

* * *

" _You know you don't have to keep kissing my butt to get the girdle, right?" she laughed._

 _He took her hand and kissed the knuckles. "Of course I do."_

"And _you are aware that I am an_ Amazon _?" she asked warily._

 _He just shrugged._

* * *

 _Blood. Her stomach had so much blood._

 _Crackling. She heard the crackling of fire near her._

 _She hoped her eyes with difficulty; her head felt like it had been cracked open._

 _She first saw a blur of brown and black, which soon became the familiar sandals of the curly-haired man. She looked up to see the familiar face, now seething with anger from above. "I trusted you," he said with no warmth in his voice. "And you betrayed me."_

 _What was he_ talking _about? She would never betray him, even if her loyalty would lead to her death. How could he even_ think _that about her? Had all their times together proved_ nothing _?_

 _Suddenly, the man crouched down, the face still in a scowl. He reached her waist, and for a brief, faint moment, she hoped that he would pick her up and set her upright. Forget that all this happened and help her clean up her wounds. Look at her with the familiar gentleness in his eye and smile at her like she was his world._

 _Instead, she only felt something sliding out of her waist._

" _I'll be taking this," he said, holding up the girdle and dangling it like a prize. "A hard-won prize from war, after all."_

 _She only could watch him walk away. She_ hated _not being useful._

 _She was too in pain to cry._

* * *

She jumped from her bed at the sound of her alarm - the latest single of Jagged Stone, panting heavily and feeling sweat on her face.

She...she had been so _sure_ that she had been the one bleeding on the floor, the flames around her. But now here she was in her room, with no signs of dry blood.

She lined her stomach with her fingers, breathing a sigh of relief when she found that there were no ugly gash marks.

 _It… it was just a dream._

 _Just a dream,_ she convinced herself. _Just like all the other ones before_. It hadn't actually happened to her. Yeah.

Somehow, she felt like she was only deceiving herself.

* * *

She almost smashed her phone to quiet the rock and roll music but settled on tapping the screen in frustration.

It was now 10:30.

She groaned. She needed to get ready _now_. Alya was going to be waiting for her, and a waiting Alya was not a nice Alya.

* * *

After she put on the red satin dress with black spotted patterns she had designed a few months ago with a pair of red sandals, she was called down for lunch by her mother. She ate her sandwich rather quickly and got back to her room to finish getting ready.

Marinette decided to put on natural looking makeup and was about to head out the door with her purse slung around her shoulders when her phone buzzed.

It was Alya.

"Hey Alya," Marinette answered after tapping accept, "I'm all done now and ready to head out! I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay girl," Alya said. "Nino and I'll be right there so we can all go there together."

"Alright."

* * *

When Alya and her boyfriend met Marinette in front of the bakery door, they exchanged brief hellos before walking to their destination.

"I still can't believe that Jagged Stone came back to Paris," Nino said excitedly, initiating the conversation.

Marinette giggled. "Nino, we bought the tickets a month ago."

"Yeah," Nino beamed, "But still! The dude usually stays in the US or goes everywhere in Europe but Paris. How many _years_ has it been since he's performed here?"

"Two," Alya replied. "But it might also have something to do with XY. He has a surprisingly tight hold on France's music."

"But that dude is so… generic!" Nino groaned. "Why do people like him?"

Marinette and Alya shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe for the same reason that Chloé likes him?" Marinette asked.

Alya gagged. "Bleh. Chloé . All the more reason to dislike him."

Marinette frowned. "I don't think we should dislike him just because Chloé likes him."

"Yeah babe," Nino said. "We should dislike him because he's rude and his music is unoriginal. No need to hate on the guy only because Chloé likes him."

"Alright," Alya sighed. "Speaking of Chloé though," she began, "I heard that Chloé's coming to the Jagged Stone concert today."

Marinette's brows rose. "She is?!"

"Yeah," Alya said with an equal amount of surprise. "I thought that she hadn't liked Jagged Stone. Didn't think she would go to his concert, you know? But apparently someone is going with her and they persuaded her to come with him."

"Wow," Nino said with admiration in his tone. "Someone actually _persuaded_ Chloé?"

Alya shrugged. "Who knows. She said that her 'Adrikins'," she said this with air quotes, "was coming with her and that it will be one of the most romantic nights for her or whatever," she rolled her eyes. "She was bragging about it on social media."

"You follow her on Twitter?" Marinette asked, eyes widening with disbelief.

Alya shrugged. "Keep your enemies close, you know?"

"I'd rather not," Marinette muttered. "In fact," she said, "I'd like her to be as far away from me as possible."

"Yeah, babe," Nino said to Alya. "I agree with Marinette. Chloé's the type of person that makes you...uh…"

"Exhausted? Frustrated?" Marinette supplied. "Just with her mere _presence_?"

"Yup," Nino agreed. "It was only mild for us in collège and lycée because we had you two," he smiled.

Both smiled sheepishly at that. "Thanks, Nino."

* * *

When they arrived, they saw the huge line that was gathered at the entrance. It coiled like a snake, but despite all the winding lines, it was still long enough that Marinette could barely see an entrance. Just how many people were here?

"Excuse me," she said to the man in what looked like the back of the line. "Is this the end of the line?"

The man turned around, and to her surprise, it was _him_.

She gasped. "You!"

She noticed that he looked at her from the bottom up with his green eyes. He didn't look that all surprised. "Hello, my Lady," he beamed at her.

She raised a brow. "My Lady?"

He pointed at her outfit. "You're wearing a Ladybug dress, aren't you?"

She frowned. "Oh," she said, examining her dress once again. "I never thought of it like that," she said. "So, that was a wordplay?"

"Of course! Puns are my specialty," he said proudly.

She stifled her giggles. He sounded like a kid showing off their favorite toy. "Is it _really_?"

"Yup! I consider myself to be quite _punny_."

She groaned at that. "That wasn't good!"

"You just aren't _spotting_ the humor in my great puns, my Lady!" he complained. He shook his head in shame with faux regret. "It is a shame, really. Perhaps you are _winded_ down from all this waiting," he said, stretching his arms out at the line.

She rolled her eyes at that, but her smile gave her away. "Perhaps your brain has been _beetled_ too much to the point that you would attempt to use those puns as humor," she answered cheekily.

He broke into a huge grin at that. "The lady does have an affinity for puns!"

She groaned dramatically with a friendly smile on her face to tell him that she was joking. "See? You've gotten even _me_ infected with your… strange sense of humor," she chuckled. "You should stop _bugging_ me with your atrocious puns," she said playfully.

"You hurt me, Marinette," he put his hands on his heart in a dramatic gesture. His face was contorted in artificially created pain. She laughed.

"Speaking of-" she began.

"So-" he began at the same time.

They broke into a laugh at that.

"You go," he said first.

"No, you go,"

"No. Ladies first, right?"

"What did I tell you about the puns?" she said, amused.

"Well, I actually didn't mean that as a pun, but I'll take the credit," he grinned, satisfied. She chuckled.

"But still," he said, "You should still go first. It's practically common decency to let the ladies go first."

She raised a brow at that. "I didn't think of you as the chivalrous type."

"I'm an aspiring knight in shining armor," he chuckled.

"Well, you should contact me when you become one," she laughed. "Because I can then steal your armor and sell it on eBay."

He frowned. "Hey! At least sell my lance _first_!"

She laughed. "Of course, Mr. Knight. It would otherwise be a disgrace."

"Of course it would. And that's Sir Knight, to you."

She laughed. "Of course, Sir Knight."

He grinned widely. "Well, technically I'm a squire right now." There was a pause and he looked as if he was deep in thought. "But… maybe I could get some real world practice, yeah?"

She looked at him questioningly.

He suddenly turned sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck like she had seen him do in her-

She immediately stifled that thought down.

"Although I see that you have brought company, would you like some escort for tonight, princess?" he asked, blushing. Her eyes widened. "I-"

"Ugh. What is _up_ with this line?!" Marinette could have sworn that she could recognize that voice from a mile away.

The voice's owner now stomped out of the coiled snake that was the line, marching to the front.

"Chloé," Marinette seethed.

"You know her?" the man asked her in disbelief.

"Yeah," she frowned. "We were in the same collège and lycée together."

He smiled. "That's great!"

She whipped her head to him. "Great?" she said in disbelief.

There was silence. "It… isn't..?" he whispered.

She shook her head. "She was my enemy. Always tried to pick on me."

He frowned. "Oh… uh…" he shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

She shrugged. "It's fine. I eventually stood up for myself and kept her in line. Hope she doesn't cause too much trouble today," she said, narrowing her eyes back to the general direction where Chloe had stormed off to.

At those words, she immediately heard a couple of screams and yells of calling daddy.

Marinette frowned. She saw that the man grimaced.

"Well… I guess I've been proven wrong yet again," she rolled her eyes. "Unsurprisingly."

"Yeah…" he grimaced. "Chloé can be… _difficult_."

"You know her?" it was her turn to be surprised.

"Yeah… she's my, uh… friend."

" _Friend_?! She has _friends_?!" she knew how offensive that sounded, but Chloé deserved it, honestly. "And _you're_ her friend?!" how could a nice guy who was (even though she would never say that to him, in fear of being bombarded by too many puns every minute he and she ended up bumping into each other) relatively funny be friends with that she-beast that had a soul as black as night?

"Um… yes? We've been friends ever since we were very little; our mothers were close friends," he explained.

"Why are you still friends with her then?" Marinette frowned. "If you know that she can be difficult..."

"I can't just give up on her," he shrugged. "She's been with me ever since I was little." Which was the same for her, but probably with a far different meaning. "Plus, I don't think I can just dump her under the bus; she's one of my only friends."

At this, her frown turned into a sympathetic smile. "Not only," she said.

"Pardon?"

"You can call me your friend," Marinette said.

At first, he looked at her with confusion, as if something was unbelievable. Unfathomable. Then, he beamed as widely as possible. _Is a friend_ that _valuable to him?_ She thought with worry.

"What's your name?" she finally asked. "I should know the name of my friend, yeah?"

His smile soon morphed into a confused frown, but it soon turned into a gentle smile. She didn't know what was up with that, but she tried not to think much about it. "Adrien," he finally said.

" _Adrien_?!" she shrieked. She almost tripped on her foot.

He frowned. "Is that bad?"

Memories of the dream when she had accepted to be his girlfriend resurfaced in her mind.

She blushed. Did this mean that the dream would predict the future? Would she _really_ become his girlfriend?

The thought was bizarre. She had met him only a few days ago!

But she didn't feel any repulsion to the idea, either. And he seemed like a genuinely funny and nice guy...

And a small part of her said that it was only something that was natural and obvious.

She pushed that part of her deep down into the abyss.

"N-no! Of course not! Adrien is a very nice name!" She chuckled.

"Oh… okay Marinette," he smiled weakly.

That made new thoughts come up within her.

"Can… can I ask how you know _my_ name?"

At this, he frowned for a moment. If someone didn't look closely, they might have missed it.

Not that she was looking closely, of course. Because, of course, she wasn't. She just happened to notice it. It was a coincidence. Yeah.

"I…" he began. "I just heard it from Chloé, yeah," he said. "She was talking about you on the phone and-"

Marinette snorted. "Probably it was mostly lies,"

Adrien chuckled. "Yeah, you're nothing like what she said."

At that, her cheeks reddened. "Is that a compliment..?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah!" Adrien beamed. "Of course!"

Marinette looked at him. "Thanks," she finally said.

* * *

Her most hated enemy came back looking smug.

"Adrikins!" Chloé said, throwing her weight onto Adrien. He caught her reluctantly. "I have news!"

He chuckled nervously. "That's great, Chloe. What is it?"

"We can go inside right now! I have talked with them-"

"More like threatened them," Marinette muttered under her breath.

But the blonde must have heard her because she stopped midway in her speech and scowled at Marinette's direction.

" _Marinette Dupain-Cheng_ ," Chloe said with scorn. "Fancy seeing you here,"

"Right back at you, _Chloe_ ," she seethed.

"Uh…" she heard Adrien say, but she paid him no attention.

"What are you doing here?" Marinette asked. "I thought you weren't a fan of Jagged Stone."

"I so am not," Chloe said. "But 'Adrikins' here," he smiled awkwardly at Marinette. Her eyes widened. He _was 'Adrikins'?_

She scoffed. That was a terrible nickname.

Poor Adrien.

She could do better - and _should_ do better - than Chloe.

"-insisted that we have our first date here!" Chloe squealed. "Isn't it romantic?" She smirked.

At this, Marinette rose her brow at the male blond. "I thought you said she was a friend?"

"And she is," he chuckled nervously, trying to put distance between him and Chloe.

"Don't be silly, Adrien!" Chloe chuckled. "I'm your girlfriend."

"Girl friend," he said, emphasizing the space.

She rolled her eyes. "Same difference." Both frowned at that. "Anyways, come on, let's go inside!" she said, taking his wrists and dragging him out of the line.

"Um, Chloe," he said as soon as she took his wrist. "Can I stay here for a little bit more?" he chuckled nervously, looking back at Marinette. "I want to…"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "I can't leave you alone with the baker girl, Adrien," she chuckled as if even the possibility was ludicrous. Marinette clenched her fists. "You deserve far better. Like me!"

He looked at Marinette immediately and back at Chloe. He was frowning again. "Uh…"

"Come on," Chloe said, dragging him away.

He followed the blonde reluctantly. However, he turned his neck to give her an apologetic smile as the two blonde-haired people walked to the building.

* * *

Those who said that Jagged Stone was rusting had _not_ been to his concerts. The rockstar was still going strong, despite it already being two hours into the concert.

"Yooo! How you doing, Paris?!"

Scratch that. He was _living_ the music.

Marinette knew that they had bought the ticket that was for three hours, but didn't musicians usually tire out and sometimes need a drink of water? She wasn't even sure that she had even _seen_ a bottle of water. Not to mention that Jagged Stone's energy electrified the crowd to a fervor that Marinette was sure could only be otherwise achieved by alcohol.

However and unfortunately, her body was also getting electrified, which meant by default that her bladder was also getting electrified. So she excused herself from Alya and Nino to head to the bathroom.

It was when she reached the water fountain that separated the men's bathroom from the women's that Marinette tripped.

* * *

" _Plagg!" she said, the tension evaporating from her body as she saw the familiar shadow coming out from the woods and to the other side of the clothes were in tatters and his face was covered in dirt. She saw a black eye._

 _Her eyes widened. "What_ happened _to you?!" she said. Did he get into a fight? Maybe it was with… oh sweet Osiris. Then were there any other injuries that he was hiding underneath his clothes?_

" _Kicked your folk's butt," he smirked. From the way he grinned widely, he was unapologetically happy about his actions._

 _She shook her head in disapproval. "Plagg…" she said with fondness in her tone. "When you come to the other side I am going to kill you."_

 _Plagg flinched at this but did not say anything._

* * *

 _They finally met together a half an hour later. She stormed over to the man whose skin was the color of chocolate huffing, fists clenched._

 _Plagg flinched at this. "Tikki, I-" She tugged at his clothing and pulled him in for a kiss._

 _It felt like fire to her, hot and living and writhing, something that was engulfing and all-embracing. It was dangerous because of this, but it was also nourishing and intoxicating. It made her wobbly in the knees and flushed red on the cheeks, and she felt as if all of the energy she possessed was going to her head, her head working busily and not at the same time._

 _She moaned into his lips._

 _Maybe it was because this was her first kiss._

 _Maybe it was because he immediately kissed her back after the shock wore off._

 _Maybe it was because this was Plagg, who understood her and embraced all of her, including her flaws like they were overlooked jewels._

 _Maybe it was because they were yin and yang, two opposites of each other that were each other. Plagg was her and she was Plagg. Where she was light, he was darkness. Where he was light, she was darkness. And this made it so that they were able to exist alone yet together at the same time. When one wasn't able to do something, the other picked up the slack._

 _Speaking of troubles..._

 _She smacked Plagg on the head, effectively forcing him to pull away._

 _He clutched his head in pain. "Ow! What did you do that for?"_

" _You should have thought before you acted!" she frowned. "Just because you don't like them doesn't mean-"_

" _They hurt you!"_

" _I'm okay now, that's what matters!"_

" _No, it isn't!" he frowned. "They should have paid for what they did!" Did he… growl? "And I made_ sure _that they did."_

 _She sighed. "I appreciate that you care, Plagg, but really, I'm oka-" Plagg scoffed at that. "I really am!"_

" _I'm not apologizing for what I did, Tikki. They were in the wrong."_

 _She frowned. "I'm not trying to force you to apologize, Plagg. I just need you to… think before you act."_

" _And risk letting those bastards get away with what they did? No way."_

 _She sighed in exasperation._

* * *

"...rinette? Marinette? _Marinette_? Marinette?! Are you alright?! MARINETTE!"

She snapped out of her visions and onto a familiar set of chest. It was accompanied by a familiar set of arms that had been on her arms before. It was actually like it had _always_ been there before and like it _belonged_ there.

She looked up to see Adrien's face, in a visible worry.

"My Lady?"

She blinked. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

She nodded and gave him a reassuring smile. Because her consciousness was now regained, Marinette was successful in convincing Adrien that she was fine. "Yeah. It happens sometimes."

He sighed with relief. "Should we get you to a hospital?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't think I can explain this to them. I've tried, and they never believed me."

Adrien frowned. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't they?"

Marinette shrugged. "It's just something that I was born with. No one knows why I have it."

He raised a brow at that. "Okay…"

She then felt him breathing onto her face and realized that her hands were on his chest.

Her cheeks flamed up when she remembered the passionate kiss that Plagg and Tikki - that had been her name - had shared.

With confusion evident on his face, Adrien studied her face.

His face morphed into something more devious.

" _Falling_ for me so soon, my Lady?" he smirked.

At the words, she suddenly remembered why she had come here in the first place. She snorted a no and escaped from his grip (not like she needed to; he willingly let go of her) to go to the bathroom.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note: Basically this was a critique on the mind of an INFJ, of which I am one. I see some of myself in Marinette (but I empathize with Adrien more because I've gone through a similar experience) and so may have put some of my own thoughts when I was exploring Marinette's internal monologue. Maybe I shouldn't have gone that much in depth, though: it ended up being more than four thousand words on just the monologue alone! Now that's crazy. And that was when I hadn't even started the plot yet XD._**


	2. Alone

_**A/N: Hello, I'm back!**  
_

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Alone**

"Can't you just call it a finished product? I don't see anything wrong with it," Alya turned her head to look at the almost finished clothing again. Her hands were lodged on the chair that Marinette was sitting in.

The blue-haired girl shook her head. Her right hand was now on the sketchbook. "Something is missing if I just leave it like this, Alya. But if I only add the lace on the neckline, the top part would look heavy compared to the bottom."

Marinette sighed in frustration, raising her hands up in defeat. "I don't know what to do with it, Alya!" She had gotten no inspiration throughout the six days she had been relieved of creating the bowler hat, and now she was desperate for something - anything.

Which was strange when Marinette thought about it. Her visions usually happened three or four times a week, and if Paris wasn't flooding inspiration into her brain, her visions were the ones doing the job for her. As a result, she rarely had to face slumps or artist's block; she got everything she needed inside her brain. And sometimes more.

As much as inner turmoil the visions caused her, Marinette had to admit that her visions did do wonders for her creativity. She was constantly exposed to different elements of inspirations she could use in her fashion design through them, and she always jumped at the opportunity of making something beautiful from her suffering. As a result, her clothing choices had elements of anything from the fifth century to modern day. If one combined them to look at her works as a cohesive whole, they were sure to be disappointed.

Her works never coalesced together in themes nor a specific style; on the contrary, she created both creations of dark and light, earth and sky, fire and ice.

But something about her creations, when all seen together, had an… effect of some kind that many did not know what to call it. There was something profound and truthful that came as a result of all these haphazard themes thrown together randomly, they had all said, and made her works seem as if the themes were not random at all, but was rather chosen with the most absolutely painstaking care. Not because of how similar they were to each other, but because of how different they were to each other. And by throwing them all together in a gigantic fashion melting pot, it seemed, these seemingly contradictory, completely opposite and incompatible themes suddenly seemed… like they were on the same playing field. As if they all belonged on the same soccer team or something, having different roles to achieve a single goal.

When asked what goal it was, Marinette herself replied that she did not know. She only blindly followed what her brain told her to do, trusting that her creations would be right when it was finished. She never put too much thought into what exactly she was creating, either, and what idea she was portraying. She found that not thinking about the ideas, paradoxically, made them come more alive in an intricate complex web of ideas.

Thinking only led to overthinking, she had learned the hard way, which led to doubts and simple errors that could have been avoided easily.

It was a lot easier to breathe sewing rather than just sew, and she supposed that what she was experiencing was part of the wonders of creating.

Because while the finished product was, without a shadow of a doubt, distinctly her , there was also something that was more than just her.

Contrary to what others may believe from this statement, however, her creations didn't transcend her consciousness and break through the mass's subconscious; rather, it was the individual and the masses. A part of a whole, of which Marinette's story was a landmark that one could choose to start at, but was not the only - nor the most important - beginning nor the only story in the web.

When others asked about her designs with the same reverent tone that she had grown up with as a gymnast, Marinette only was able to shrug and say that she didn't know what actually possessed her when she created. She was sure that it was not only her who had a part in her designs.

Her honest response to those who questioned the origins of her talent, thus, became of two categories.

The first were the people who gushed that she had an obvious gift from God, and that she was incredibly lucky to have found it at such a young age. They wished her luck on her endeavors and promised her that she'd go far in life.

The other were the people who attributed her creations to pure luck, and ominously threatened that one day, her luck will run out and she will not know what to do with it.

She had scoffed at their accusations; if luck was on her side, then why did she get visions in the first place?

Granted, she crafted beautiful creations from the help of those visions, but they had no idea what levels of pain she went through to get this far. If they did, then they might have watched their mouths.

Which made her start to think: was the thing that possessed her related to her visions?

Her visions had only lasted a second or two, tops, before the recent developments. Marinette was thus only one of the few who knew how literally fleeting inspiration could be and be of the few (or the only) who could call it that.

And since her inspirations were literally her visions, she couldn't have been blamed for wanting to make a connection between the two strange and seemingly supernatural forces in her life.

However, now she was stuck at one of the most stressful and hardest obstacles in her designing history.

No visions had flooded Marinette's mind at all this week, and so she was literally starving for inspiration, for that vision to strike her at any moment, pick her hand up to guide it seamlessly through the papers, and possess them with an uncanny grace that filled out the gaps that Marinette hadn't even been aware of.

She waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Any moment now…

Any…

Moment…

Now...

It didn't come.

She groaned, banging her head on the desk. Just when she needed inspiration, she didn't get them. Instead, whenever she didn't need them and sometimes was in situations where she was better off without them, because her sketchbook no longer had empty pages or her pencil broke inside the purse, she overflowed with them.

There just wasn't any balance .

Overflowing inspiration, huh…

She began flipping pages to where her creations - each at unique stages in development, ranging from conception to finalized and refined product - were, a source of untapped inspiration that she had forgotten to use due to her mild artistic slump.

Yes… maybe the lace on the sleeves would be good? Maybe she should cut the back out altogether and replace it with a sheer material with flower prints, and...

Things were looking better, she thought excitedly.

Suddenly, her sketchbook was slammed shut.

She blinked in confusion. It was also partly from the too plentiful air assaulting her naked eyes; she had to protect them.

"Maybe you should take a break from designing?" the owner of the chocolate-colored hand said.

Marinette narrowed her eyes and pouted. "But I was just getting started …"

"Nuh uh uh," Alya wiggled her fingers back and forth with the syllables, "You have been cooped up all day today here, missy. You are getting some fresh air."

Marinette pouted in annoyance but did not object.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on the point of view) for Marinette, the place Alya chose to help the designer relax only made her mind go insane in a completely different way.

Because as she looked down at the Seine from the ivory bridge, she was almost certain that she could spot the place where Adrien and she had been in her dream. It had been… there. Yes, close enough to the shore that it they weren't too far away from safety but far enough that it gave a fresh feeling of excitement of the (relatively safe) unknown. It felt so real, so surreal, as if it had really happened to her.

How fitting, she thought, that that had been the place her brain had selected to signify the beginning of a new relationship.

"Come on!" Alya said, grabbing the designer's wrists and dragging her to the ice cream stand. "We got to get rid of that build up of heat on your face, girl! You've been cooped up inside that room too much!"

Oh, she had no idea.

They were greeted by a man whose smiles were as big as him.

"Ah! Alya! It's good to see you again!"

"Hi, André," Alya smiled. Marinette's eyes widened. Was he really the André?

"You are not with Nino today?" the burly ice cream man asked, looking left and right for the young man.

Alya grinned. "No, he's trying to catch up on schoolwork today. Finals are coming up!"

The man chuckled. "Of course it's that time of the year. I'm glad that he's doing well, though." His face fell into a temporary confusion as he pointed towards the blue-haired girl. "Who's the mademoiselle?"

"This is Marinette," Alya bumped into her shoulders.

Marinette gave a shy grin and wave. "She's my best friend."

The man broke into a huge grin at that. "Welcome, Marinette! To André's!"

Marinette broke into a full blown smile. "Thank you, André."

He craned his neck from the opposite direction if where Marinette was. "I see that no one else besides Alya is with you. Tell me," he broke into a somewhat mischievous grin. "Are you involved with someone?"

Marinette's cheeks reddened. "You mean, romantically?"

"Of course!" André beamed. "I don't sell the Ice Cream of Lovers for nothing," he chuckled.

"No, I'm not. And I'm not sure if I'm ready for love yet, you know?"

At this, André's face contorted in confusion. "What could you mean?"

Marinette shrugged. "With finals and the end of terminale , everything is ending. So what's the point in trying to start something new now ?" she halfheartedly said, but she did somewhat believe it.

"Nonsense!" André frowned. "With every end comes a new beginning! And right now, if you open your heart up to love, you might just be able to start something new with someone, no?" he winked.

"Maybe," Marinette tried a smile. "But can I just get a regular ice cream?" Marinette said sheepishly.

"Of course! There is no need to punish someone for being single!" Her visions did not agree with that sentiment. "Choose anything you want!" André said as he opened his arms, inviting Marinette to look in.

After being assaulted by the coldness from the freezer, Marinette opened her eyes to see flavors of all different shades and hues. She even considered that there were too many choices; she saw chocolate, blueberry, blackberry, chocolate chip, mint chocolate chip, green tea, strawberry, mocha, vanilla, raspberry, and too many other flavors she couldn't identify.

How so many flavors fit into a tiny freezer was beyond her. She could only explain it with magic.

Or maybe as André would have liked to put it, the magic of love.

"Um… I'll take the strawberry ice cream," she pointed to the pink one, "and the-uh," chocolate sounded good. She was craving mint chocolate chip, too, but, "green tea, I guess," she said, pointing to the green ice cream.

The man beamed… proudly at her.

Proudly? She thought with confusion evident in her face.

"Of course!" André said, his right hand digging swiftly and excitedly into the tubs of ice cream. "Coming right up!"

As André dipped his scoopers in, Marinette heard a distinctly male voice from the left. "Marinette?" it said in disbelief.

She whipped her head around, and was surprised to see Adrien standing there, looking at her curiously, with a Red with chocolate chips, Dark blue, and light blue ice cream in his hand.

"What are you doing here?" he asked wide-eyed, as if he couldn't still believe if she was, indeed, standing in front of him.

She blinked at him. "What are you doing here?" she almost whispered.

"What, a guy can't have ice cream?" Adrien chuckled as he leaned his head back. The winds tousled his golden locks, making him look every bit picture perfect. It was one of those perfect shots that fashion companies would have loved to have as their front picture for an ad advertising the latest necklace or shirt or whatever. (While she did look at what was trending in the fashion industry, she separates herself from the consumer culture there and thus kept to herself.)

"I was looking at the Seine when André joined me," André waved hello yet again, but this time with his ice cream scoop that now carried green tea. It was a wonder how it did not fall. "Thought that it would be nice to have something cold in this weather," he said, pointing to the scorching hot sun.

"That's good," she chuckled. André's ice cream was ready at that moment, and after a quick thanks to the ice cream man, she turned back towards Adrien. She first popped the cherry into her mouth, relishing the sweetness of the fruit. "What are you doing near the Seine? Are you just out here to sightsee?"

"Actually, no," he chuckled. "It's for work; I have a photoshoot here."

"What? Are you like, a photographer or something?"

His eyes widened with surprise, but then he laughed. "Actually, I'm the one in the photographs; I'm a model!"

She looked at him surprised. "Really?"

He grinned. "Yeah. What are you doing here?"

"I was designing a top today but couldn't get out of a funk." Adrien nodded. "So my best friend," she pointed to the redhead. Alya waved to Adrien.

"Hi," Adrien said casually but with a hint of nervousness. "I'm Adrien," he said as he laid out a hand for her.

Alya smiled as she took it with her own. "Alya."

"Suggested that we go out for ice cream," she said as their hands now parted ways. Marinette smiled. "Just didn't know that it was this one in particular."

"Well," Adrien chuckled. "It is a good thing that you chose this one."

"You're damn right," Alya grinned deviously. Marinette ignored it, rolling her eyes at her best friend's antics.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't have seen you here today!" he beamed.

Marinette laughed as she took a lick of her ice cream. Me too.

"So," Adrien began, "What are you planning to do afterwards?"

"I have the day free to design and make some clothes. But since I can't find any inspiration," she frowned. "Maybe I'll only be looking for inspiration today. I don't really know what I'm doing; this is my first time, but-"

At this, Adrien lit up. His cheeks reddened a little bit. "Maybe I can help you? I-"

"Adrien!" A voice yelled from across the bridge, startling all three of them. "We fixed the camera set! We're ready for you now!"

Adrien sighed, looking at the phone to check the time. It was five fifty five. "Sorry. I gotta go. Maybe I'll see you later?" he smiled nervously. I hope you find that inspiration you're looking for."

She smiled. "Thanks. See you, Adrien," she waved back as he waved goodbye to her. His figure became smaller and smaller as time passed by, indicating that he was further away from her, but not once did she see him turn away from her.

It was only when Adrien reached the crew that was waiting for him that he finally turned around.

Meanwhile, Marinette was immediately pulled back into reality when Alya looked expectantly at her, with mischief shining in her eyes.

Here we go again…

"What was that?" Alya asked.

"What was what?" Marinette asked, trying to stall as much as she could.

" That !" Alya said, as if the word alone explained entirely what she meant. "When have you been picking up models ? And apparently it was without knowing, which is a shame on you, but he's still quite the looker nevertheless." At this, Marinette blushed. "You've always gotten quite the catches, but this one must be your best game yet, Marinette," Alya grinned as she looked at the bluenette suspiciously. "Are you sure you're innocent?"

"What?!" Marinette shrieked. "Alya!" she exclaimed in horrification as Alya chuckled. "It's not like that. We're just friends."

"Well," Alya began, "It's obviously not on his end."

Marinette raised a brow at that. "What do you mean?"

Alya looked at her in disbelief. "How oblivious can you be? Even I can see that that boy is totally smitten with you, and this is only like, what, my first actual meeting with him! Didn't you see the way he looked at you?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Yes, I did, Alya,"

"But did you really see?"

"Yes, Alya, I have eyes. And he looked at me as if I was a good friend."

Alya groaned at that. "No, you dummy, he looked at you as if you were his world ! As if you had the keys to the universe or something!"

Marinette looked confusedly at Alya. "No, Alya. We've only met each other twice."

Alya looked at Marinette curiously. "Really?"

Marinette nodded.

"Well, whatever you did, you must have hooked him in really badly. Because he's totally smitten!" she squealed.

Marinette groaned. Leave it to Alya to make something out of nothing.

Although, now looking back, Marinette was also a master at that too, although she did use her skills for different ends than Alya.

No wonder they were best friends.

Marinette and Alya swiftly exchanged goodbyes not long after Adrien's departure, the redhead wishing Marinette some more luck than usual and some rest.

Marinette chuckled at the luck part as she reminisced about all those times people claimed that she was "lucky." Her visions were definitely not luck, but nor were they misfortune. It was… something, she guessed. She didn't know if she would be able to describe it.

She didn't know if she could describe it to anyone. Would anyone listen? Would they think of her as insane? Or would they accept it as a quirk of hers and get over it easily?

She hoped that it would be the latter but the inner devil in her said that it would always be the former. She cursed that devil; she wished that it didn't always have to ruin her day.

But she was fighting with herself again, and that might have seemed a tad bit insane for most people to handle.

So she stopped.

Until that day, she decided, when she could gather enough courage to admit about the most freakiest supernatural force in her life.

However, the designer did not heed the journalist's advice, as Marinette walked to the Eiffel Tower with her sketchbook in hand.

It was almost sunset when she realized the increasingly dimming and orange-fying light, but her house was close to the Eiffel Tower and so she made it back home before sundown.

The next day, Marinette woke up with a massive headache and a greenlit phone. Groaning, the blue-haired girl pressed her unfeeling right hand to her forehead to cool the throbbing pain as her left pressed the home screen button.

It was a text from Alya.

Hey girl! Nino and I are going to get lunch at the burger shop I told you about a while ago. You wanna come with? Sent: 8:30 AM

 **Sure! When should we meet up? Sent: 9:30 AM**

It's actually not that far so meet us there, will you? And let's meet at one in the afternoon. Sent: 9:31 AM

 **Alright. Meet you there at one. Sent: 9:32 AM**

Marinette looked at the top of the screen to see the time but noticed that her phone was forty four percent.

That's strange, she thought. Had she not plugged it into the charger before she went to bed?

She didn't know what happened, but since she had some time before she had to head out for lunch, she absorbed her head back into the warm blankets after she had connected her handheld device into the wooden walls for its daily electrical nourishment.

As Marinette walked the streets of Paris with her trusty Google Maps in hand, she cursed her decision to skip breakfast in favor of sleeping in. Her stomach was growling with displeasure, protesting loudly for the void in her insides to be filled, and the way people stared at her did not help at all in trying to help herself feel better.

Granted, her headache was gone now, which she was grateful for. After all, no one wanted to be a zombie when meeting with one's friends for lunch. But she was still groggy, stuck in a strange transitory state where one was not necessarily undead but not yet alive, either. Where they were merely functioning because they had to (and also with the magical power of caffeine, she reminded herself.). It was as if she was not yet ready to face the sunlight and start another day, but had nevertheless been thrust into one by an authority figure who did not care at all about her well-being.

Another loud growl came through her stomach as she lengthened her strides.

She almost regretted sleeping in.

Almost.

But when she fell yet again, the least of her worries became her public embarrassments.

The wooden walls of the shop, combined with the warm lights of the interior, made the shop inviting as she looked around the room in shock. The shop hummed with pleasure as she looked around.

The humming was not in the way that machines usually did, she noticed. Instead, it was as if they were imitating humans, and not the sad and delusional kind that hummed with faux joy to relieve pressure from themselves and forget their woes. No, the shop rather hummed with a lightness that revealed its genuine pleasure and contented acceptance of the world.

The entire shop, even though she had never been in it before, enveloped her heart in a nostalgic and heartwarming sensation that were usually thought to have been left behind in the past. Now was not the time for emotions, many now said. Practicality was the newest fad.

As she scanned the tables, she crossed off the faces from who she was looking for.

No. No. Wrong hat. Wrong shade of blue T-shirt. Wrong shade of red hair. No. No. No.

Huh?

She found a familiar looking shade of blond hair who wasn't supposed to be here.

She walked over to him, almost entranced by the glowing golden locks. They looked rather heavenly and angelic, contrasting heavily with the earthly nature of the shop.

"Adrien?" she asked warily.

It was when he turned his neck to respond to the call, it was then she was certain the familiar crystal green eyes were his.

She panicked.

"Marinette? What are you doing here?"

Luckily, she caught herself with her hands before she hit the concrete, posing in a strange plank position. If her calf had not slammed into the hard rock and gave them a blue bruise, she would have considered it to be a perfect plank position, one that her physical education teachers and ex-gymnastic teacher would have applauded.

Ignoring the stares and whispers on the streets and the subsequent blush in her cheeks, Marinette uprighted herself and dusted off her satin dress.

It was after four minutes of walking that she finally reached her destination. Turning off Google Maps, she took in a deep breath.

Purse, check.

Somewhat clean clothes, check.

Bruised calf, check.

Sighing, she opened the door and was shocked to find that the inside was extremely familiar to her, even though she had never been in this place before.

Too familiar. She looked around her surroundings for Alya and Nino.

There was the same humming sound, the same shade of lighting, the same wooden walls that she had seen in her vision not even five minutes ago. There were the same rounded tables and the same faces that she had scanned from the crowd.

This was definitely more than just a feeling of déjà vu, she thought with horror.

Then, with morbid fascination, she saw a blond hair. It, indeed, looked exactly the same as she had first seen it: glowing blond. But now, there was something more to it than that.

There was fear.

"Adrien?" she asked warily as she walked towards him like a moth to a flame. She, like the moth, knew that she shouldn't get too close. Otherwise, she would end up hurt and maybe even die.

But she had to know - she had to know if it really was him.

Please don't let it be him. Please, please don't let it be him. I'll give anything for it to not be him.

It was when he turned his neck to respond that she recognized his crystal green eyes with dread. They widened with surprise.

"Marinette?" Adrien asked her. "What are you doing here?"

He even said the exact same words, she thought with resignation.

Looks like her visions had gotten the best of her again. And this time, it had completely come out of left field.

And she hadn't expected it.

She chuckled at how not-hilarious the situation was. Then, it turned into a full blown laughter as she tried desperately to clutch her stomach to ease the pain.

It hurt like hell as she wiped the tears from her face.

"-rinette? Marinette? Are you… okay?" Adrien asked warily.

She laughed harder at that. It was only after a few more seconds that her laughter subsided.

"Okay?" she snorted with bitter discontent. "Of course not."

"Oh…" he frowned. "Um… would you like to go to a hospital, then?"

The words ripped her heart in two, suckerpunched her gut, and kicked them both again for good measure. She bit back a frown, instead letting it mutate into a bitter smile. Hospital, huh?

The thought of her in a hospital gown inside a mental institution was too much for her to handle.

" Sure ," she replied sarcastically. "I would love to know how clinically insane I am."

Adrien frowned as he looked at her wide-eyed. However, Marinette could see that underlying everything was a genuine concern for her well-being. Which made her angry , for some reason. "I-"

"Marinette!" a female voice interrupted Adrien. " What are you doing?" her tone was coiled with disbelief and scolding disappointment.

"It's…" Marinette still clutched her stomach from pain. "It's hilarious, Alya. I've finally gone insane. My… my visions. They can tell the future now!" she said with faux glee.

"I think so too, girl," Alya said with concern evident in her tone. At this, Marinette scowled.

She will not cry. She will not cry.

Alya put an arm around her currently deteriorating best friend and helped her stand straight. "I'm sorry, Adrien. I don't know what's gotten into her. Sorry for bothering you."

"It's okay," Adrien said, concern still etched in his face. "Is she going to be okay?"

" No ," Marinette frowned, "I'm not." She felt a slap on her shoulders. "Alya."

"Yes, you are," the redhead said as she led the feeble designer back to where their table was.

Since their table was table number four and Adrien's was table five, Alya didn't have to lead Marinette away from Adrien for too long. However, the proximity of how close Adrien was not doing the designer any good.

The assault upon Marinette's brain after her laughter settled down did not help her condition, either. The blue-haired girl was now constantly on guard, looking out for something that everyone else was certain did not exist.

It only exacerbated thoughts that she had now gone insane.

Alya looked at her with worry. "Marinette-"

"Alya, I need to get out of here." Marinette stood up. Her gaze was too intense for a person who was supposed to be enjoying her lunch.

"Wait, Marinette. But what about the food-"

"I can ask them to box it for me." Marinette's blue eyes only looked forward.

Alya's frown did not fade away as her eyes began watering. "What is wrong?" she said gently, kindly. "You're scaring me, Marinette?"

"What is wrong ? I'm what's wrong, Alya," Marinette said without emotion as she walked over to the counter. "Everything about me is wrong," she said, her back against the two tables where her friends sat.

"Marinette, wait!" Alya said with hands reached out, but her friend heeded no attention towards her best friend.

Marinette's food was boxed up within a minute after the food came, and the designer opened the door with urgency as soon as the plastic box were in her hands. She let the harsh rays of the sun soak her up in a cocoon of doom.

What had that been? Marinette's thoughts raced as she ran towards her house, to safety. She would not cry until she was safe, and so the only other option was thinking about just what the heck that had been.

Marinette knew that her visions could be from anywhere from the past to the future, and she had always supposed that her visions were grounded in reality. She didn't know how realistic it was, but judging by what happened, her visions were now nothing if not realistic.

They had and were going to happen.

So what did that make her?

What was the universe trying to tell her? That she had no control over her life and she was to live as a puppet, doing the deeds of whatever it was she was supposed to be doing?

So shut up and just obey?

She let out a low chuckle at the thought.

Like in hell would she do that.

Bring it on, fate, she thought bitterly.

She knew she was fighting her visions again, and that it would likely lead to a failure once again.

But this - this was trespassing on her. This was trespassing and trampling down who she was. It was trying to crumble down who she was to the fundamental core .

And she wouldn't let that happen to her.

She ran faster.

A deluge of tears poured out from her soul as Marinette collapsed in her chaise in exhaustion. She had somehow managed to not shed a single tear on her walk home, instead replacing it with righteous anger, but as soon as she let herself feel weak, she somehow couldn't stop.

She felt a giant chasm in her heart where she usually felt nervous warmth-but-nevertheless-warmth. It was void even more than her stomach, and her heart felt like it was the chasm itself rather than being in a chasm. Her brain was numb from all of the shock and emotions she was now letting herself feel and that no trigger of further pain was present.

From this traumatic encounter, her brain now served her as a second heart.

Bump bump, bump bump, it vibrated.

She… she was a freak. She was different. She belonged in a hospital, so that she could somehow be sane.

Adrien, as well-intentioned he had been, had given her the final blow.

She flipped her body over on her chaise, now letting her back touch the furniture. Her eyes shone of no light, no joy, as she stared out into the distance at a specific but non-specific place on her wall. She lifted slowly her unfeeling hands and hugged them to her knees, touching her forehead with her knees as she trembled into her lap.

She was alone in her room.

Pathetic.

She lifted her stain-filled neck to look at her desk, which now housed her purse and to-go box from the burger joint.

She languidly wandered towards it, drawn like a moth to a flame, and slowly pulled out her chair. She sat down on it, the chair not creaking under her weight nor lowering when she sat.

It was as if she didn't exist.

She unfolded the box as it rustled under her guidance, her hands working on autopilot like it had always done whenever she sewed.

Her thoughts were empty; she didn't know if she could handle it if they weren't.

The aroma assaulted her nostrils, immediately making her stomach growl in both pleasure and displeasure. With a lick of her lips, she dug in and gobbled it all up too quickly.

While her stomach was no longer void because of the food, her heart and brain still was.

And, in a strange way, her stomach still was too.

After three hours of staring off into nowhere, she decided to confront the vibrations that were coming from her phone.

There were thirty eight texts and four missed calls from Alya, ten texts from Nino, and three texts from an unknown number.

From curiosity, she opened up the chat for the unknown number.

 _Hey Marinette, this is Adrien. I got your phone number from Alya, I hope you don't mind. I'll erase this number from my contacts if you feel uncomfortable with it, but I had to ask if you're okay. Sent: 12:35 PM_

She smiled. He cared about her.

 _I don't know what exactly happened back there, but if I messed anything up, please tell me. I apologize in advance. Sent: 12:41 PM_

What? How could he even think that any of this was his fault? None of that was his fault! It was her fault for reacting that way.

She hated it when people called out on her behaviors as overreacting; she was reacting just the amount she needed to, thank you very much. It was all very genuine, where the reactions came from.

But she knew that what had happened back there was such an ugly combination of some of the most unpleasant emotions to invade humanity in all of its history. And even if she hadn't "overreacted," it was definitely not one of her finest moments.

She wouldn't blame him if Adrien no longer wanted to be friends with her.

 _I hope you're doing alright. I'm worried for you. Sent: 2:55 PM_

She smiled forlornly.

Bless him for being so kind towards her.

She began typing.

 **Hey Adrien, thank you for checking up on me. I'm fine now. I am truly sorry for what happened there. And, no, I don't mind that you have my phone number. We had to ask each other for it eventually if we are going to stay in contact as friends. That is, if you want to still stay as friends. I'm sorry that it had to end up like this, though. Sent: 4:20 PM**

It immediately chimed.

 _What?! Why wouldn't I want to stay friends with you?! And I'm glad that you're doing better. If you need anything, any help, you can count on me. That's what friends are for, right? Sent: 4:23 PM_

Marinette grinned. Curse his kind hearted soul.

 **Thank you, Adrien. Sent: 4:24 PM**

 _It is not a problem. Hope you feel better. Sent: 4:25 PM_

She spent the rest of the time reading and responding to Alya's and Nino's messages, saying that she was fine now and sorry for making such a scene at the burger joint today. She didn't know what had possessed her (okay, she knew perfectly what had possessed her, but that didn't mean that she still understood the full story of why she had acted like that.)

She successfully dodged questions about the whys.

When she willed her phone off and went to bed, it was four forty-four.

She was holding hands with a black haired man with red markings on his hand (and hers too) as they looked at the sunset. There was a definitely idyllic quality to the whole scene, something that screamed that they were not in the modern day. There were plenty of grass, plenty of buffalo roaming around in the far off distance that they could see but not too close that their lives were endangered. Judging from the straw huts she could see from her peripheral vision, it was of a time long gone. It was incredibly warm and heartwarming, the entire sight.

She missed it, even though she had never been to the place.

The next few days at school, Marinette noticed that Alya and Nino tried their hardest to make her feel comfortable and included, even going so far as to consider her fragile.

Which, she guessed, she was. She no longer could lie to herself about that.

The designer appreciated the lengths her friends went for her.

However, she couldn't help but feel alone in her body and oppressive thoughts. She wasn't like others, she was a freak of nature, and nature wanted her to do its bidding.

As much as Marinette was repulsed by her own thoughts, she couldn't help but think that Nino and Alya were mere distractions to her.

She chastised herself for being so ungrateful. She should have been so happy that she had such wonderful friends!

And she was. She was happy and so lucky to have Alya and Nino in her life. She appreciated everything they went through for her and felt excited with them.

But all highs had lows, and whenever she wasn't around them to distract her, her thoughts wandered to her fate.

On Wednesday afternoon at around five o'clock, Marinette was surprised to see a familiar face walk into the bakery.

"Hey, Marinette," Adrien said to her. Clad in a long trench coat and a comically big fedora on a scorching hot summer day, he was the definitionof absurd.

She giggled. "What are you wearing ?"

"It's the latest fashion trend," he grinned mischievously.

She raised a brow at that. "Really? That's in style right now?" she said incredulously.

"Of course!" He beamed, unable to restrain his laughter. "Who wouldn't want to be this hot in this weather?" he waggled his brows, leaning closer to her face.

She pushed him away with her index finger, smiling. She somehow loved this.

He… he wasn't repulsed by her.

He was still grinning.

"So," she began, "How did you find this place?"

"I asked Alya where your house was."

Her eyes widened in half-grimace and half-alarm. "And she just gave it to you?"

"She-uh," Adrien blushed, rubbing his nape. "She wiggled her eyebrows at me and asked when she can expect a wedding-"

"Oh," she blushed.

"But I told her that I was just coming in to check in on how you were doing, and she gave me the address to your bakery," he grinned. The intensity of that grin made her heart fill up a little bit.

A little.

"Speaking of, I didn't know that you lived in a bakery."

"It's only the best bakery in Paris," Marinette grinned, putting her hands on her sides proudly. "I guarantee it."

He chuckled. "Then I must break my diet to get some. What do you recommend?"

"Well, the eclairs are my favorites. The croissants are a classic, and…" she began listing her recommendations as he listened with a grin on his face.

She began to notice that he paid no attention to anyone else when she was talking, and almost tripped from the intensify of those green eyes.

She only hoped that her bangs would cover up her blush.

After he chose to take the eclairs, Adrien opened the inside of his jacket to find his wallet when he was interrupted with a hand on his.

"Don't," Marinette said. "It's on me."

"Really?"

"Of course. It's as a thanks."

He frowned. "But I didn't do anything," he said.

"Yes you did!"

"I did?"

"Yes. You did me a huge favor. I owe you one."

"You don't have to-"

"Adrien. Friends give free food to each other," she finally said, trying to get the blond to accept her treat.

At this, he beamed. Marinette fought back a chuckle.

"Thanks, Marinette!" Adrien said. "Then I have to treat you back some time, right?" he said hopefully.

Marinette blinked, wide-eyed. "You don't have to. I was paying you-"

"Great!" he grinned. "When are you free?"

"Uh… I'm always free on the weekends, and I have Wednesdays usually open," she tried a smile.

"Okay! I'll check my schedule and text you the details," he beamed, but then it immediately faltered. He bit his lip. "Unless… you don't want to..? Which is totally fine, by the way!"

"No! No, it's not that!" she grinned. "I'd love to hang out with you," she chuckled. "As friends," she added.

"Right. As friends."

"As friends," she chuckled nervously.

Somehow, she only felt like she was deceiving herself.

When Marinette told Alya about their hangout, Alya screamed with excitement that it was a date. Marinette blushed as she stammered out that it wasn't; it was just a gathering for friends. Alya only gave her a look and started choosing Marinette's outfit for the occasion that was yet to be even set up.

Marinette was surprised to hear from Adrien that he was only going to be free around a month later. The autumn collection for the company, as well as something else on the side that the company was doing, was coming up soon. Since he was the lead model, he had to be in a majority of the photoshoots and he would be ridiculously busy for the month.

Marinette said that she understood amidst all of his apologizes and constant notifications of the word "Sorry," but he didn't cease his apologies and promises to make it up to her.

In fact, she had to actually demand that he stop apologizing so her phone would stay relatively quiet when she was working on the top she had been designing.

However, that didn't work; he immediately texted her, "Sorry. I'll shut up now."

Then not a minute after, he texted her

 _Sorry, I didn't mean to say sorry before. Sent: 10:30 PM_

 _I mean I did, but I didn't want you to… I mean… Sent: 10:30 PM_

 _Sorry. Sent: 10:30 PM_

It was a hopeless cause, she sighed with an amused smile on her face.

The very next day, Adrien sent her a picture of his black cat.

 _He's a pain in the ass. Sent: 6:05 AM_

She smiled.

 **He's cute. Sent: 7:45 AM**

 _You say that because you don't know what he's capable of. Sent: 7:46 AM_

 **I wish I had a pet. Sent: 7:46 AM**

You wouldn't wish to have this one, my Lady. Sent: 7:47 AM

She giggled.

 **I'm sure he's not that bad. Sent: 7:48 AM**

 _You say that because you don't know what he's capable of. Sent: 7:49 AM_

 **What is he capable of? Sent: 7:50 AM**

 _Ruining all of my furniture, scratching at the windows when I bought him a scratching post for that reason, peeing on me when I sleep, and being a general nuisance. Sent: 7:52 AM_

She laughed at the idea of the black cat urinating on the model's face.

 **Aww. he's marked you. Sent: 7:52 AM**

 _Princess. Sent: 7:53 AM_

That somehow sent her stomach doing backflips.

 _If this is his form of affection, I'd rather not have it. Sent: 7:54 AM_

 _Although I'd take any form of affection from you ;) Sent: 7:57 AM_

She giggled at the cheesy pick-up line, but her heart was pounding heavily.

 **You're just saying that. Sent: 7:58 AM**

 _I'm not. Sent: 8:02 AM_

 _My father kills me whenever my room is not in pristine condition. Plus, his pee stinks. Sent: 8:03 AM_

 **Do you have any other pets? Sent: 8:04 AM**

 _No. Just him. Sent: 8:04 AM_

 **Have you ever had any other pets? Sent: 8:04 AM**

 _No. How about you? Sent: 8:04 AM_

 **I haven't. Sent: 8:05 AM**

 **I don't think the bakery would function with animal fur around. Although I've always wanted a hamster. Sent: 8:06 AM**

 _A hamster? Why a hamster? Sent: 8:06 AM_

 **They're so tiny and fluffy and cute. Sent: 8:06 AM**

 _You're such a princess. Sent: 8:07 AM_

 **But I'm no damsel in distress ;) Sent: 8:07 AM**

 _Of course not. Sent: 8:07 AM_

The rest of the day, Adrien flooded her phone with cat memes (and occasionally hamster ones although they were far and few in between). She eventually started calling him Chat Noir, and the name stuck.

"So," Nino asked Marinette on a Monday at lunch, "How're things going with Adrien?"

If she had liquid in her mouth, she would have spit it out from surprise.

"We're good friends," Marinette said warily, darting her eyes quickly to Alya and then back to Nino. "He's... nice," she finally said.

Nino raised a brow. "Nice?"

"I mean, he's a dork," she smiled. "And," she frowned at Alya's glare. "He's very nice. Kind. Caring. Maybe a little too much though," she chuckled at how many times he'd apologized for such a simple thing as apologizing.

Nino snickered. "I'll be sure to tell him that."

"You're friends with him, too?"

"Yeah," Nino chuckled. "Ever since that day you walked out of the burger joint, he approached us and we became good friends."

Marinette beamed. "That's great! Maybe we should all have lunch together or something!"

Nino frowned. "I don't know, Marinette. The guy's really busy."

"Really?" Marinette asked.

"I mean, I would assume. He's the lead model for Gabriel , and,"

At this, Marinette's eyes widened. "He is ?"

Nino looked at her funny. "What, you didn't know?"

She shook her head furiously. She would have known if her friend was in her idol's company, right?

"How can you not know? He's Adrien Agreste ."

Realization hit her like a bucket of cold water.

"WHAT?!" She screamed.

"Marinette, shh-"

"I'VE BEEN SOCIALIZING WITH MY IDOL'S SON AND I HAVEN'T KNOWN THIS ENTIRE TIME?!"

"It's even more remarkable that you didn't know. How can you not know he is your idol's son?"

"I thought he looked familiar! Plus, I look at the clothes, not the models," she said sheepishly.

"His face is practically plastered everywhere on Paris!"

Oh, right.

Oh, right!

That was why he had a driver!

That was why he wore that ridiculous fedora and trench coat to her bakery! (She needed to give him a lesson on how to be inconspicuous, and also thank him for all the efforts he made in trying to cheer her up.)  
That was why he didn't have many friends!

… Wow.

Too many things started making sense.

She immediately pulled out her phone and began typing.

 **Agreste? Sent: 12: 03 PM**

 _Yes? Sent: 12:03 PM_

 **Adrien Agreste? Sent: 12:04 PM**

 _That's my name? Sent: 12: 08 PM_

 **I didn't know that! Why didn't you tell me? Sent: 12: 09 PM**

Because you would find out anyways? Sent: 12:09 PM

At this, she froze.

 **Did you not want me to find out? Sent: 12:10 PM**

 _? Sent: 12:10 PM_

 _I mean Sent: 12:10 PM_

 _It was inevitable that you would. Sent: 12:10 PM_

 _But Sent: 12:10 PM_

 _Yeah. Sent: 12:10 PM_

 _I kind of hoped that I could prolong it for as long as I could." Sent: 12:12 PM_

Before she was about to ask why, ellipses showed up and made her fingers cease temporarily.

 _Do you want me to introduce you to my dad or something? I know that you are a fan of his work. Sent: 12:13 PM_

 _And since you are a designer, I just figured that you would want to meet him. Sent: 12:14 PM_

She frowned. Why would he…?

Realization hit her like a bucket of ice water.

 **No. Sent: 12:15 PM**

 _? Sent: 12:15 PM_

 _No? Why not :( ? Sent: 12:15 PM_

 **No. I will meet him because of my own work. Not because I have his son as one of my friends. Sent: 12:16 PM**

 **I don't want to take shortcuts. And friends don't use each other for their own gains. Sent: 12:17 PM**

She saw ellipses. They appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

 _They don't? Sent: 12:21 PM_

Her heart shattered at the two words.

 **No! Sent: 12:21 PM**

 **Of course not! Sent: 12:21 PM**

 **Why in the world would you ever think that?! Sent: 12:21 PM**

 **Is it because of Chloé? Because Sent: 12:21 PM**

 **If that is it, then she is a terrible friend!" Sent: 12:22 PM**

She saw ellipses. They appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

 _She's okay. Sent: 12:25 PM_

 **If she ever made you think that she is a good friend for using you, then she doesn't know what a friend is! She's not 'okay,' minou ! Sent: 12:26 PM**

 **Not like she knows what a real friend is. Sent: 12:27 PM**

It was left on Read.

Ellipses appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

 _Please stop, Marinette. Sent: 12:30 PM_

 _Chloé… isn't that bad. Sent: 12:32 PM_

 _She's just… Sent: 12:32 PM_

Ellipses appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Disappeared, appeared. Disappeared, appeared.

 _She's just lost. Sent: 12: 36 PM_

Something told Marinette that this was more than about Chloé.

Her heart broke for him.

 **Chaton , I Sent: 12:37 PM**

 **I'm Sent: 12: 37 PM**

 **I'm sorry. Sent: 12: 37 PM**

 _It's okay. Sent: 12:41 PM_

 _I know you didn't really mean them. Sent: 12:42 PM_

But she did.

And that was what was most frustrating about this situation.

She turned her screen off and slammed her palm into her face.

It was funny. It had been barely a week since they had started talking on the phone and texting each other. But she already missed being able to talk and text with him after one evening of being deprived of it.

She missed his stupid puns and 'my Lady' and 'princess.'

She missed his stupid cat memes. And maybe even his flirting.

When had she become so addicted to him?

She tried to move, but she was tied by something. Something tight, and it was taking away the breath from her lungs…

She looked down and saw a rope tied intricately around her body. She felt something hard, like wood, on her back, and…

She saw that her white dress was on a wooden floor. Her hands were tied with a… was that a cross ?

She felt and smelled flames. They engulfed the floor and now was threatening to devour her whole… She tried desperately to get out, to fight the ropes and get out of her alive.

But she felt a gaze.

His.

Facing her was a sinister, prideful, and regretful, yet familiar looking, man.

That… that was her partner , and he was…

She tried to croak out his name, but her voice didn't come.

So she screamed when the fire finally devoured her whole.

She woke up, her voice sore and panting in panic. Tears ran down her face, and her breaths trembled in fear as she shivered from the cold. Trying to gain any body heat possible, she covered her feeble arms with her hands in a protective yet defenseless stance.

Her phone vibrated.

 _Good morning, my Lady! Sent: 5:55 AM_

 _I know you're not up right now, but I'm starting my autumn photoshoot today. Sent: 5:55 AM_

 _Wish me luck! Sent: 5:55 AM_

With trembling fingers, she began typing.

 **I know you'll do well, chaton . Sent: 5:58 AM**

Her fingers trembled and hovered over the keyboard after she sent it.

The phone immediately chimed.

 _You're awake? Quite unusual of you. What's up? Sent: 6:00 AM_

 **Can I call you? Sent: 6:03 AM**

 _Of course. Sorry I didn't call you yesterday. I was just thinking about some things. Sent: 6:05 AM_

At that, she exited the chat window and pressed call.

Ring…

"Hello?"

" Adrien …" she trembled.

"What? Are you crying? Are you okay, Marinette? What happened ?" he said in a succession of worries.

At his voice, she couldn't take it anymore. She broke down into sobs.

"I… I was roped on a log, and I… there was fire all around me. And there was this man-"

"Shh," he cooed gently. "It's okay, princess. It's…" He hesitated. "It's just a dream. It… it isn't real ." There was a gentleness attached to the word, but Marinette also couldn't help but hear disbelief in his tone.

"It isn't real ." Something told her that he was also convincing himself that while he was trying to soothe her. There was now a hint of sadness attached to it.

" It isn't real ," he said again in disbelief. His breath started hitching. She heard fast and hot breaths of panic.

It didn't help her feel better, but she sniffed her tears away for Adrien. He had been there for her; now it was her turn to be there for him.

"It's...it's okay, minou ," she tried a smile. Even though he couldn't see it, he could hear it. "It is real."

At this, he sighed heavily with what she hoped was relief.

"Thank you, Marinette."

The call ended.

She sighed.

What was that about?!

It was obviously something deeply personal to Adrien, she knew, and it had something to do with dreams.

She had never seen anything like it. Did normal people have problems with their dreams, aside from the typical nightmares?

Did normal rich people have dream problems?

Did normal rich people born from gigantic fashion moguls have dream problems?

Did normal rich people born from gigantic fashion moguls who possesses a black cat with a hyperactive urinary system at the worst times have dream problems?

Could… (and she thought this with the risk of becoming truly insane)

Could he be like her ?

The idea sounded far fetched enough, but it didn't sound ridiculous, for some reason. She blamed it on how weak she was.

Her phone vibrated.

 _Oh shit I was supposed to be making you feel better but I failed you. I'm so sorry. I made this all about me, didn't I T.T? Sent: 6:25 AM_

She chuckled and shook her head.

 **It's fine. You were having a rough morning. Sent: 6:26 AM**

 _But you were also having a rough morning :( Sent: 6:27 AM_

 **I'm okay now. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, I think you needed it more than I did. Sent: 6:29 AM**

 **Good luck at the shoot today. Sent: 6:29 AM**

 _Thanks. Sent: 6:30 AM_

 _I'm so sorry. Sent: 6:31 AM_

 _I'll make it up to you. Sent: 6:31 AM_

 _Somehow. Sent: 6:31 AM_

 **You don't have to, minou. Sent: 6:31 AM**

 _I sure do, and I will make sure that I do. Sent: 6:31 AM_

 _Thank you, Marinette. Sent: 6:32 AM_

 _? Sent: 6:32 AM_

Ellipses appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared.

 _For helping me. Sent: 6:36 AM_

She smiled.

 **Anytime. Sent: 6:38 AM**

After two minutes of contemplation accompanied by back-and-forth pacing, Marinette decided that no, it wasn't likely that Adrien had visions like she did.

For one, he didn't seem to know what she had been talking about when she said that she had random visions throughout the day. He actually seemed confused by the whole prospect, although he didn't go so far as to consider her insane like some people did. (And she hated to admit it to herself, but they might have been right all along.)

Secondly, her problems weren't with dreams, but with visions. Her problems were from the day, while his were from the night. She doubted that the two were related when there was such obvious difference.

Thirdly, it just didn't seem likely. Because if Adrien really did have similar problems as she did, then wouldn't he be clumsy as well? Wouldn't he be falling too, instead of being the one to catch her? His behavior seemed completely different from what she did, who she was.

(In fact, excluding the part where he was the son of a fashion mogul, he seemed as ordinary as they came. She meant this in the highest of praise.)

No. It probably was something that most people had problems with, like a nightmare or something. This one had just led to a reaction that was just… more intense than normal.

As much as she liked him (as a friend! She liked to remind herself) and wouldn't mind if he was like her in some way, she had to face the truth that she was different from everyone else.

But maybe not tonight.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note: And on the next episode of Angst Extraordinaire, the plot will further unravel as we switch gears and scoop up a Fluff Ice Cream, sprinkled with a bit of Angst!**_

 _ **Whoops…**_

 _ **So…**_

 _ **That happened. *looks innocently to the left***_

 _ **Who knew that these dorks could be such trainwrecks? (I actually didn't, by the way. It just somehow… ended up like this. Don't ask me how I got here; I don't know.)**_

 _ **I'm afraid that I've made Marinette unlikable for some people with this chapter. She is getting over the ugly parts of her and she will be helping Adrien big-time with his problems. But for now, she needs to face her inner demons. And as she wants to rather run away from them and pretend they don't exist rather than face them head-on, she needed a giant wake up call.**_

 _ **Also, forget what I said about this story likely being a two or three shot. I think this can even become a ten-chapter story (considering that each chapter houses ten thousand words) depending on how good of a job I do. Maybe even more if I end up Introverted Intuition-ing (Ni-ing) too much. (For those of you who don't know what that is and are willing to learn, please look up cognitive functions of MBTI. Actually, go to Michael Pierce's YouTube video on INFJs please; you'll get a much better perspective on Ni that way.)**_

 _ **Why do I make myself do more work?**_

 _ **It's not on purpose. But I somehow end up doing it.**_

 _ **I hate (and love! But hate in this particular circumstance) myself.**_


	3. Invader

_**A/N: Hello, I'm back!**  
_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Invader**

Knowing that her visions were actually fact was a surreal realization for Marinette.

Because then that meant that she was somehow… _accessing_ someone's body and/or memories from the past and/or future? With thoughts, sensations and everything else?

How was that _possible_?

She knew that there was no law in physics that could describe her visions. Physics was one of her worst subjects, yes, but even _she_ knew that much. Weird vision/dream-like phenomena only happened to her, as far as she knew.

However, it was something deeply important and personal to her.

And ever since she had had that vision at the burger joint, she could no longer ignore or set them to the back of her mind.

Now, they weren't just pesky annoyances in her life. Rather, her visions were some mysterious thing that told her of some things. She didn't know what that thing was, or what they wanted to tell her, rather than maybe that her fate was chosen for her.

But then, why bother telling her about it? If her fate was chosen and she had no say in what happened regardless of whether or not she had the knowledge, why would they try to make her suffer with the understanding?

It seemed like all a big waste of an effort to Marinette, and although she probably could not fathom what the universe was thinking as it cranked its gears everyday, she definitely did not _understand_ this.

Was it _wrong_ of her to want to understand what was happening to her?

Maybe she shouldn't be accepting it as fact that she had these weird visions in her life that she didn't even know where she got them from. Maybe she shouldn't be regarding it as the quality of herself that was separating her out from the crowd and making herself different, but rather as a foreign invader. Something that wasn't part of her, but one day came into her body and her being and made itself at home.

Yeah, that sounded a lot better.

But if that was true, then could she get rid of the foreign invader?

 _Should_ she want to?

Her visions always caused her a great heap of trouble in her life, and Marinette had been in - and still was - in great pain because of them. But when you have lived your entire life blind, you don't know what sight is. And so, when the opportunity comes and you can finally see the world... well, it was strange. And now that she was imagining what life she would have without the visions, well, life without her visions seemed… _odd_.

Would she want it?

What about the other sharpened senses that she would lose? Would she think that the gained sight would be worth it, the gained normality?

Did she want it?

(No, she decided. She didn't. But she didn't want to admit it out loud.)

That didn't even begin to cover why she had these visions in the first place.

(Yes, she did want to get back at whatever force of nature her visions, but that didn't mean that she didn't want to know what in the world they wanted to do with her in the first place.)

What was its purpose in her life? To just make her different?

Marinette doubted that. There were many ways one could be different. She would probably have felt equally as different under different circumstances.

So why _this_ specific flavor of differentness?

What could the universe possibly want with _her_?

She was a simple girl with a simple life. She lived simply by modest means, and while she may have had big dreams, she was going to get there the simplest way she knew how.

If the universe had planned _her_ , out of all the people, to do something extraordinary, she had no idea why they had picked her.

Take out the supernatural visions, and she was one of the simplest girls you could see walking down the streets.

She thought about what she might have been like had she not had visions in her life, but then she stopped. The idea itself was so far-fetched and big to her that she couldn't fathom a life without her visions.

Maybe she could fathom a future without her visions, yes. She would easily blend into the crowd, into the background, without anything impeding her from doing so. She might feel like she belonged somewhere for the first time in her life.

But a past where there were no visions?

She came up blank every single time.

Because would she still be a fashion designer, then? Would she be competing as a gymnast professionally now?

What about her inner world? How many puzzle pieces would look different or be missing?

What kind of a person would no-vision Marinette be like?

It also didn't help that her visions had come back with a _vengeance_ this week. In fact, Marinette couldn't remember a day when she didn't have visions anymore. A day when there wasn't anything supernatural happening, that wasn't controlled by her own desires and doing.

But she had never expected it to go on and have a rampage.

She was having three to four visions per _day_ , and these times were not at all predictable to her chagrin.

It was a wild animal, her visions, one that drove her insane and wouldn't leave her alone unless it was tame. But she couldn't have it tamed, and so she had given up trying to, letting it be just like a wasp; if she didn't touch it, then it didn't sting her. (Of course, the simile didn't completely apply here; it was stinging her regardless of what she did. But she found that it stung less painfully the less she tried to force control onto her visions.)

And with the way that they were happening, Marinette couldn't help but think that the visions were having fun messing with her head. Maybe even betting on the day that she was finally going to go insane, if there was some force (she was somewhat sure that there was, because what kind of a coincidence was that thing at the burger joint? That had been done to spite her.) that was controlling the visions.

Ha! The joke was on them. She already had.

But whether or not they knew, the universe didn't seem to give up on trying to make her suffer.

In fact, it was as if they loved kicking her when she was down.

As much as Adrien's calls and Alya's excursions with Marinette healed her, the fact was that Marinette's visions wouldn't go away or go in the way she favored.

Maybe the universe had heard her declaration of war on the visions, she thought on a Thursday, and it was now fighting back.

Whatever it was, she didn't appreciate it.

"Okay, class," Mrs. Mendeleiev began, "I have graded your pop quizzes-"

Groans permeated across the room.

"And I have to say that I am not impressed," she said with a frown. It looked more like a scowl from where Marinette was sitting, but she preferred a frown better than a scowl. Therefore, Marinette regarded it as a frown. "If you all want to pass my class, I suggest that you start studying for the finals now."

"But we have five more weeks!" Marinette turned her head to see a pink-haired Alix groaning into her lab table. Her head hit with a hard _thunk_.

"Those five weeks can pass by quickly, Alix. I suggest that _you especially_ start touching upon what we've learned this year."

Alix's eyes widened with disbelief and then hardened into anger.

 _Had she just…?_

Marinette bit her lip at the insinuation. Weren't teachers supposed to be on the students' side? Wasn't that why they dedicated their lives to being in school?

(Marinette didn't think that she could ever do that. She would probably drown from the raging hormones of her unenthusiastic students. Not to mention that teachers couldn't wear very fashionable outfits for school; it was all quite bland. Not to mention grading papers. Bleh.

But that didn't mean that she didn't appreciate what they did for her and her fellow students.

However, this was out of line.)

"I don't know if I can actually pass this class, Juleka," a high-pitched voice behind her said with dread. When Marinette turned her head around, she saw that it was her short-haired blonde classmate, Rose.

"Of course you will," Juleka's low-pitched voice said, patting Rose gently on the back with a look of concern. "You'll do great in the final."

"But... " Rose began, "I've been only getting barely passing grades for all of her quizzes and tests." She sighed. "And Mrs. Mendeleiev says that the final is the _hardest test of the year_!" The blonde bit her lip. "I don't know if I can do it."

Marinette smiled sympathetically - no, empathetically, since she was also sharing the suffering. She was also dreading the day of finals. "Me too, Rose. Me too."

Marinette knew how nice it was to know that someone else shared your suffering, and so tried her best to be there for people.

Because other people _can't_ be there for her.

Rose looked up from her watery palms to the bluenette. She gave a little smile to Marinette. "We're buddies, no?" she chuckled.

Marinette grinned. "Absolutely, Rose. Maybe we can be study buddies together?" She frowned when the details of the idea hit her. "Oh wait. But we're barely floating. It's probably better to find someone that we can both benefit from, someone who is good at physics. Maybe someone like-"

"How about Max?" Rose asked. "He's into math, and he's good at physics too. He might be willing to help out."

Marinette beamed. "That's a great idea! Maybe we can study at my place?"

Rose grinned. "That sounds wonderful! Is there anything that you-"

After the brief conversation with Rose about the details of the meeting, the rest of the period was spent by Mrs. Mendeleiev explaining the contents of the finals.

Halfway through class, Marinette lost consciousness.

 _She sighed in exhaustion. Her hands trembled even after she had pillared them, her shivering legs being the base. Her face was warm from not only the heat from her hands, but the nervousness that threatened to consume her whole._

 _The brown-haired man next to her, clad in a black and form-fitting tuxedo that did not hide his muscles, frowned. "What's wrong?" he said with a concerned voice. His hands touched her shoulders to comfort her, but it didn't work._

 _Just about every other time did, but this time, it didn't._

Wonderful _._

 _"It's… it's just too surreal, you know? I know we've been practicing for months for this, Charlie, but-"_

 _His expressions got serious. "Luce-"_

 _"And I know that my makeup's on just right and these heels feel absolutely perfect, but what if I'm not-"_

 _"Luce-"_

 _"_ Perfect _? What if I'm not good enough, mon minou? What if I step on the wrong foot, or-" She gasped. "What if I step on_ yours _?!"_

 _His brows furrowed. "Bug, you are_ not _going to-"_

 _"But what if I_ do _? Oh my gosh, that would hurt so_ much _! And then we wouldn't be able to do the rest of the competition because we would be disqualified for my mistakes, and-"_

 _"Luce-"_

 _"And then we wouldn't be able to tango together ever again!" she cried. "And then we would never be able to spend time with each other because my stupid mother is forcing me to look into a different partner if we don't win this competition, and-"_

 _"Luce-"_

 _"And then we would be separated just like all those other times, and-"_

 _"Lucy!"_

 _Her head immediately whipped at her name._

 _He sighed. "You aren't going to be disqualified. You will do great, just like all the other times that I've practiced with you. And we aren't going to be separated, because we will win," he grinned._

 _She raised a brow at that. "How do you know that?"_

 _He grinned as he invaded her personal space. "I just know it."_

 _She hummed with satisfaction. Somehow, that soothed her._

 _A smile ghosted along her lips. Her nose touched his. "Thanks, Charlie."_

"-nette! MARINETTE!"

Marinette flinched at the sound, which caused her chair to fall out of balance. Arms wailing everywhere as she tried to balance on her lab chair again, Marinette bit her lip as she tried to regain her sight of what was happening at the moment. At the pressure from her hands, her chair rattled less nervously and finally came to a stop.

Marinette sighed with relief, looking up to the direction of the voice.

She was face to face - or nose to nose - with the Wicked Witch of the West herself. (She meant Mrs. Mendeleiev.)

(Also, she was married? Marinette didn't know how she was. Okay, that was offensive, and Marinette knew that she shouldn't have these thoughts, but could she really help it, with the way Mrs. Mendeleiev looked at her?)

She blinked. "Yes, Mrs. Mendeleiev?" she smiled sweetly.

Mrs. Mendeleiev pinched her nose bridge in frustration. "That's the fifth time that you've spaced out in my classroom for the past week, mademoiselle. Are my lessons not important enough for you that you would rather space out and daydream?"

"I-uh-" How was one supposed to explain that she didn't daydream - her mind _literally_ flooded her with images and sensations and feelings so that it became impossible to be in the present when she was busy traversing to the past or future - and she couldn't control it?

Mrs. Mendeleiev sighed. " _Please_."

That made Marinette's eyes widen. _Please?_

Was her hearing going wrong?

Did she need a hearing aid?

Oh god, what if her visions were affecting her hearing, too? Would she become an old haggard woman by the time she turned twenty?! What if-

"Just pay attention," her voice wobbled for what Marinette knew was the first time. Okay, maybe Grandma 20-year-old Marinette was a little ridiculous, after all. "I want to help you succeed, but it's hard to do that when you're not letting yourself be helped."

After realization struck her on just what Mrs. Mendeleiev had said, Marinette couldn't help but smile. "Of course, Madame. I'm sorry for spacing out today," she said with the most regretful voice she could muster.

Mrs. Mendeleiev sighed her stresses as she languidly walked back to the blackboard, muttering about how ungrateful students were.

Meanwhile, Marinette grinned all the way through the class at the realization that Mrs. Mendeleiev _did_ care about her students. (She just was terrible at showing it.)

However, the new realization that Mrs. Mendeleiev cared about her students wasn't going to help her physics grade get any better. After all, the woman was infamous for hating everybody.

So Marinette and Rose, in their pink pants (for Marinette) and their pink sundress (for Rose), stole Max from lunch to ask him if he could help them with physics.

Max shook his head. "Sorry," he said with remorse, "But the Ultimate Mecha Strike III tournament is coming up."

Marinette was instantly piqued. " _That's_ coming up?!"

Rose only smiled sweetly, but Marinette could also see worry from her peripheral vision. However, Max's answer pulled her back to attention.

"Yeah. And I have to practice for it. I've been waiting for it for a year now, and I need to increase my chances of winning to one hundred percent," Max said. "Based on my calculations currently, my chances of winning are only eighty-seven percent, and that is not enough for my satisfaction."

Marinette chuckled, putting her hands in front of her mouth to hide her smile. "Okay."

"Sorry that I can't help you," he said with _emotion_ , which surprised Marinette.

"Oh no, it's okay! Maybe we can meet each other in the tournament?" She grinned.

Max raised a brow. He looked at her up and down, as if he could size up how good she was just by looking at her appearance. " _You_?"

Marinette shoved the indignant anger that threatened to take over her and tried on a smile. "Of _course_!" Okay, so that word might have squeaked a little bit more than was natural. "I've been doing it for _quite a while now_ ," she grinned, leaning closer into Max's space, "and _I don't mean to brag_ , _but_ ," she let out a chuckle but it came out forced. "I'm quite good."

"Really." He was unimpressed.

"Of _course_!" Okay, she sounded mad now. This was a dead end. She should have just walked away from the entire situation when Max had sized her up. "My dad's pretty good at the game, and I end up beating him _every time_ ," she chuckled.

She did _not_ like the disbelieving gaze that Max was giving. She clenched her fist behind her back.

 _Stay calm, stay calm. You don't want to cause a ruckus, Marinette. Just smile and wave. Okay, maybe not wave, but just smile._

"Okay," he said still with that disbelieving tone in his voice. "Well," he began as he turned his back towards her, "I hope to see you there, I guess."

And he left.

"UGH!" Marinette stomped the ground and kicked her chaise, ear barely touching the phone. "UGHHHHHH!" she said louder and longer as if that further explained the situation she was in.

"What happened?" the voice from across the phone asked with worry and seriousness in his tone.

It was not one that Marinette was familiar with and instantly caught her off guard; Adrien was jokester type of person, after all.

After she regained some semblance of serenity (but others would still have said that she was angry), she sighed heavily. "I'm going to start off by saying that I am _so sorry_ to be dumping this onto you, _chaton_. But Alya would just create more problems by actually confronting the issue, and-"

"Are you saying that I can't be confrontational?"

"NO!" she exclaimed. "I just mean that you don't know this person that I'm going to vent to you about, and…"

"O...kay…" he said, his tone still disbelieving. Somehow, that tone irked her.

But she didn't want to lash out on Adrien because of something that he didn't do, and so she sighed.

"And…"

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" he said gently but with a firm grip on the conversation.

"Okay," she sighed. "So, I'm having trouble in my physics class," she began.

"You do? Physics is my favorite subject!" he said happily. "Maybe I can help?"

"Really?" Marinette beamed. "That's great! I think I could _really_ use some help." But her smile instantly turned into a frown. "But aren't you busy this whole month? I wouldn't want to make you burdened just so that you can help me-"

"Ehh," he said. "I'll find a way."

She frowned. "Adrien, if you're going to ditch just because I'm having trouble with my physics class, I'm going to-"

He chuckled. "Relax. I'm not going to ditch. I'm just going to ask Nathalie to move around my schedule a little bit so I can help you."

She raised a brow. "Nathalie? Who's Nathalie?"

"She's my father's assistant." She gasped. _Gabriel's assistant!_ "She's also kind of like my personal nanny, in a way," he chuckled.

She giggled at that. "She creates your schedules and all?"

"Yeah. She's great at what she does, but-"

Silence.

"But?" Marinette asked, gently prodding.

"You know what, that doesn't matter right now. What matters is _you_."

She felt flattered, but she couldn't help but frown. " _O...kay…_ " He knew that she would be willing to listen if he confessed, right?

"You know, _minou_ ," she began, "I'm not going to ask about your father's company. Friends don't use each other for their own gains, remember?"

"Hmm?" he said questioningly. Okay, so her guess was wrong. "Oh yeah. About that." His tone became serious once again.

She was seeing a different side to him today.

"Yes?"

"I just want to say that I've done a lot of thinking about that day...you know. When you found out my last name?"

"... Yes?"

"... I think that you were right about Chloe, and I might have been rude to you about it all. I just… I just wanted to apologize-"

Marinette furrowed her brows at that. "Why would you want to do that?"

"... excuse me?"

"Apologize because you think that you did something wrong?" she asked. "You were just defending your friend. I mean, it's _Chloe_ , but she's still your friend, right? And friends defend each other when someone else is insulting them." A pause. Marinette sighed. " _I_ was being insensitive to you, Adrien," she began. " _I_ should be the one who's apologizing."

"I-I... but you were right, Marinette. She's not exactly the best... _friend-material_ ," he chuckled nervously.

She frowned. "She might be, yes, but just because I was _correct_ doesn't mean that I was _right_."

Silence.

She hoped he understood.

"But-" he began in a tone that clearly told her that he didn't understand what she was trying to say.

Marinette let out a sigh of frustration.

Why was this conversation flowing this way in the first place?

Why did _he_ want to shoulder all the blame for this?

"I…" Adrien began. "I'm sorry."

"For what." Now she was mad. Who or what, she was not entirely sure about.

"For…" she could hear the wince in his tone. "For…"

 _He doesn't even know what he's apologizing_ for _._

Marinette laughed.

"You know what," Marinette began, her voice still monotone, "Let's just get back to the topic."

He let out a deep sigh at that. He was getting uncomfortable too, she knew. "Okay."

"Anyways," she said, voice still a little too cold. She cleared her voice and tried on a smile. "I was having trouble with my physics, and we have this guy in our class who's really good at it."

Silence.

"A-Adrien? Are you still there?"

Panic filled her face. What if she had scared him away or made him mad or something? What if she had-

"Oh yeah! Sorry!" the answer was immediate. "Guess my phone connection is a little _spotty_ right now."

She raised a brow. "Was that a pun?"

He chuckled. "Yes."

She giggled with relief. If he was in the mood to joke, then obviously he was okay. "Well, focus, minou. I have a story to tell."

"Of course, my Lady."

She groaned, but midway it became a chuckle.

He must have known that her reaction was in good spirits because he chuckled.

"Anyways, so this guy is really good at anything related to math and science in general. So we went to ask-"

" _We_?"

"Yeah. Rose and I. She's this short blond-haired girl with a pink sundress. She was having trouble in physics, too."

"I see. Go on."

"And so we went to this guy, his name is Max. And he said that he couldn't help us because there was a gaming tournament that was going to be coming up soon."

He hummed in the affirmative.

"And so, since this was also a game that I like to play and am pretty good at-"

"What game is it for?"

"Excuse me?"

"What game is it for?"

"Oh, it's for Ultimate Mecha Strike III. I really like the game, and-"

"Really?" the happiness practically oozed through the phone. "I do too! Maybe we can play it some time!"

Marinette chuckled. "Maybe we can. But be prepared to have your precious model ass be wiped by yours truly," she smirked.

He hummed. "I may not mind that," he said mischievously.

At that, her cheeks stained red. "Adrien!" she shrieked.

He chuckled a chuckle that meant he knew that he had done something wrong, and was enjoying it. "Yes?" he said in that oh-so-innocent voice of his.

(It wasn't; it just was incredibly infuriating. It was even more infuriating because the tone of his voice told that he was _more_ than aware of just what he had done.)

"Get your dirty mind out of the gutter and focus!"

He chuckled. "I'm sorry; I may have gone overboard. I will focus now, my Lady."

"You're damn right you have." She muttered. "So, anyway, if I may continue without any interruptions, I said to this guy Max that I will be looking forward to meeting him in the gaming tournaments."

"Yeah?"

"But then he _literally looked at me up and down_ , sizing me up! And _then_ he was like, 'sure, whatever,' in a _totally disbelieving tone_! I mean, can you believe the _nerve_?!"

"Yeah." That startled Marinette. _Had he ever been this cold?_ She could only remember smiles and warmth from him, just like the light the color of his hair. "That was extremely disrespectful of him to do."

"Y-yeah! And I thought he was nice, you know?" she said a little bit more timidly.

"Are you going to do anything about it?"

"What?"

"Are you going to confront him? You said that you didn't call Alya because you knew that she was going to confront him about it."

Marinette chuckled. "Yeah, no. Alya would have punched him in the face if I told her. Not only because he insulted her best friend, but also because it's such a touchy subject for her too."

"What do you mean by that?" he said, clearly confused.

"Well, it's just a touchy subject for Alya because Alya is a firm advocate of women's rights. She believes that all women can do as good of a job at everything as men if they're just given the chance."

"And you don't believe that?" he sounded surprised.

"Well, I _do_ believe that women can do as good of a job at _most_ things as men can," Marinette said. "But there are just some things that men just can do better, you know? Like athletics, for example. There's a reason the sports are separated by gender; _everything_ is just taking it too far."

He hummed inquisitively. "I see."

Marinette frowned in annoyance. "So, anyway, I'm probably not going to confront him about his behaviors."

"Why not?"

Marinette smirked. "Because I'll wipe his butt in the tournaments. _That'll_ show him who he's messed with."

He chuckled. "Of course you will, my Lady. But didn't you just say that you needed help in your physics class?"

"So? I could game _and_ study."

"Eh. Fair enough."

"Um, so, about that," Adrien began. "I'll check my schedule with Nathalie and text you when I can come."

"Okay," Marinette said. "Thanks for the help, Adrien. I really appreciate it," she smiled.

She heard a chuckle. "No problem."

It was then that she fell.

 _She was somewhere sunny. There was sand underneath her toes, and so she curled her toes in and out. The sand consequently moved in and out, in and out. It was strangely addictive and enticing in a way. It was as if she was the moon, pushing the waves of sand at the tip of her fingertips - err, toetips._

 _However, it was at this moment that her body chose to lose balance, as she collided into something warm and firm._

 _It was a… a…_

 _Her face flamed._

 _She was touching his bare chest._

 _And she was in a bikini._

 _And he was touching her shoulders to steady her._

 _"You okay?" he asked in worry._

 _"Ahh!" she said, immediately pulling her hands away from the chest. However, in her nervousness, efficiency was lost as her hands wailed and lost their way from home for quite some time. "Sorry, I-" her face was now an oven._

 _He chuckled nervously, letting his hands scrape nervously at his nape. "I'm sorry, it's clear that you're uncomfortable with all this. Maybe I should have asked-"_

 _"No!" she said. "No, it's okay! You needed someone to cover, right? I can do this." She let out a blow. She willed herself to concentrate, and not on the sensation of the firm chest that she had touched with her hands._

 _No, Marinette! Focus!_

 _"Okay." He was frowning. "I-if you say so."_

 _"You two!" A voice behind the camera said, and they both turned to see who the person was. "I need_ passion _! I need_ romance _!_ Summer love _is the theme, not schoolgirl awkwardness!"_

 _"Yes," she grumbled._

 _Great. Even the photographer could pick up on her awkwardness._

 _Just her life._

 _How was she supposed to fill in for a model today, then?_

 _Maybe she was just going to make a mess out of everything, and then Adrien wouldn't have a good picture. Then he would have to go home with that picture and be reprimanded because of her._

 _And then, Gabriel would never accept her for his company, and maybe even blacklist her for the rest of her life! Maybe he might tell others of how terrible of a model she had been, and how terrible she must be as a designer subsequently, and she wouldn't be able to get a job in the fashion industry!_

 _Maybe she might get a start-up, but Gabriel wouldn't let her succeed in the industry! All because she had bauched this photoshoot!_

 _Her life was_ ruined _!_ Ruined _!_

 _"Hey," he touched her chin and raised it up. She couldn't see his face; it was blank, but she somehow felt comforted. Maybe she was being comforted whatever it was behind the filter? "It's okay. Just forget about them."_

 _"But Adrien," she said in confusion, "aren't we supposed to be taking pictures?" She thought they were supposed to look at the camera._

 _He chuckled as he took her hands. They burned more than her shoulders had. "It's okay; everything will be alright. Just follow my lead."_

 _"O...okay..."_

"-rinette? MARINETTE! MARINETTE ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! TALK TO ME, MY LADY!"

She groaned. It was happening again. "Yeah," she breathed. "Yeah, I'm alright."

Silence. "Are you _sure_? That was quite a crash. Should I call you 112?"

"Yeah! I mean, no! I'm completely fine," Marinette dusted her clothing off and bent her knees to lift herself up. "I'm used to it by now."

"... that doesn't mean that you _should_ be."

Marinette shrugged. "Eh. What can I say? I'm clumsy," she chuckled. That wasn't the entire answer, but that was the best one she can give to anyone but herself.

"Okay… if you need any bandages or anything, just ask and I'll deliver you a whole truckload of them to your door."

Marinette giggled. "Thanks, Mr. Delivery Man."

She heard a smile. " _Anytime_."

 _Why did it have to sound so_ soft _?!_

 _Why did that single word have to confuse his loyalties?!_

He hung up to let her thoughts consume her.

When Marinette woke up the next morning with a throbbing pain in her head from the overthinking she had done, she was surprised to see that Adrien had sent her a text after she had gone to bed.

 _Hey, so I think I can do Saturday at 2. Sent: 11:55 PM_

Great!Sent: 7:44 AM

HeySent: 7:46 AM

Is it okay if I bring a friend along? I now realize that I haven't talked that I wanted to bring her along too. : 7:46 AM

 _Who? Sent: 7:50 AM_

Rose. She's also having trouble in : 8:10 AM

 _Oh Sent: 8:12 AM_

 _Okay Sent: 8:12 AM_

 _Of course! Sent: 8:13 AM_

Thanks. You're a : 8:44 AM

 _Anytime. Sent: 8:55 AM_

Hey, soSent: 12:44 PM

 _Hello, my Lady. Sent: 12:46 PM_

 _Wonderful afternoon we have today. Sent: 12:47 PM_

I told Rose the good news, but she had to : 12:47 PM

Said that Kitty Section is going to perform that evening and she needs to be there all day to : 12:49 PM

 _Kitty Section? What's that? Sent: 12:49 PM_

She's in a band and is the main : 12:50 PM

 _Cool! Maybe we can go see them! Sent: 12:50 PM_

She smiled.

: 12:51 PM

Do you have any other days you are free?Sent: 12:51 PM

 _Hold on. Sent: 12:52 PM_

 _My schedule's all booked except for that day and I don't know if I can move anything. Sent: 1:37 PM_

 _I'm sorry. Sent: 1:38 PM_

That's alright. I'm grateful that you're doing this for me in the first place. I'll just try to teach Rose what you teach : 1:44 PM

 _You'll be a wonderful teacher. Sent: 1:55 PM_

 _But on Saturday Sent: 1:55 PM_

 _Looks like it's just you and me ;) Sent: 1:55 PM_

She laughed and shook her head.

She had to stop taking his gestures seriously.

He seemed like the type of person who flirted merely to get a reaction out of people.

After chilling in the art room with Alix, Rose, and Nathaniel after school, Marinette bid her goodbyes to her fellow classmates and trekked home for five brave minutes.

She was pleasantly surprised to see an envelope jutting out from her mailbox when she arrived. Curious, she took the yellow and professional-looking envelope out to see that it was addressed to her.

Her? But what could she have done?

She darted her eyes upward to the sent address. It was from…

 _Gabriel?!_

She had completely forgotten about the competition, not with the recent developments with her visions and the knowledge that Adrien was her idol's _son_!

Marinette clutched the flimsy envelope in her chest tightly, not caring about the open doors and gust of dust behind her path. Her heart thump exploded out of her ribcage as she ran.

"Alya, I think I need help," Marinette trembled, turning around in her swivel chair as she faced the yet-unopen envelope once again. The envelope looked so… big.

So foreboding.

So much like the mailbox had been.

"It _caaaaame_ ," she whispered with a sense of ominous foreboding.

"What came?"

"An envelope from _Gabriel_!" She said, half mortified and half nervous beyond belief. "It came in the mail today! Oh god, Alya, what if-"

There was a moment of silence before shrieks assaulted her ears. "MARINETTE! OPEN IT!"

"But what if it's a rejection letter, Alya? What if they say that I'm the worst designer in the history of design-"

"JUST OPEN IT, GIRL!" Alya yelled amidst all of Marinette's ramblings. "The worst that they can say is no!"

Marinette sighed, fingering the opening of the envelope once again. "But that is the _worst_ thing that can happen to me, Alya-"

"Girl," Alya said in a more serious and scolding tone, "If you don't open it, I will get my butt over there so that I can open it _for you_." Marinette grimaced at that. "You wouldn't want that, _would you_?" she sang.

No. No, she did not.

"Alright," Marinette said with a sigh. She gulped, biting her lips and huffing her nervousness.

She slowly and painstakingly ran her fingers across the part where the envelope was licked. She pulled, effectively destroying the folded crease and what had separated her from her inevitable rejection.

She knew that she should have worked better on the pigeon hat. She had a minor stitching problem on one of the corners and she knew that black wasn't a good color for the hat. Plus, the pigeon feather didn't go along with the rest of the hat and it could look gaudy with the wrong model-

She sighed. Overthinking wasn't going to do anything good right now.

Eyes screwed shut, the blue-haired girl pulled the envelope out; it was now or never. Her hand hovered on top of the envelope, clutching a single sheet of paper in her hand.

She slowly but surely peeked an eye to look at the big fat no on her paper.

There was none.

 _Of course,_ Marinette thought. _They wrote it on a paper for a reason._

She pulled the paper fully out from the envelope, gulping at how it was at the point of no return. If she didn't read it now, then she would feel like more of a coward than she would have not opening the envelope in the first place.

So she began reading the first line.

"It is with great pleasure that we announce your entry in the Gabriel Bowler Hat competition as the winner for this year's competition," she read.

 _It is with great pleasure that we announce your entry in the Gabriel Bowler Hat competition as the winner for this year's competition._

 _It is with great pleasure that we announce your entry in the Gabriel Bowler Hat competition as the winner for this year's competition._

Her eyes widened with realization. She gasped, her mouth hanging wide open.

She read the first sentence again and the next line just in case.

Just in case this was a sick joke that her mind was playing on her.

It started with a "Congratulations!"

The paper slipped out of her hand as she reclined back in her chair in astonishment.

She couldn't believe it.

She… she had…

She had _won_?

 _She had won?_

 _She had really won?_

Bolting out of her chair to jump for joy, she screamed at the top of her lungs. The paper now glided gracefully to her desk as it fell face-down. She haggardly screamed, unable to believe that she had really won.

"OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH!" She shrieked at the top of her lungs in her very pink bedroom. "OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH _OH MY GOSH_!"

"What? What girl, what is it?! You can't keep me waiting like this! This is worse than murder!"

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was soon a sobbing mess on the floor.

Everything she had ever done, _everything_ she had worked for, was validated just by the words carved on the piece of paper. All those late nights pulling her hair out in frustration, all those hours she had put into making the hat and collecting the feathers and forgetting to eat, all of them had really been worth it.

She couldn't feel the ground anymore. _So is this what people feel when they say they're on Cloud Nine?_

"MARINETTE!" The voice liberated her from her thoughts. Marinette immediately whipped her head to the direction of where her phone now lay on the ground. "Marinette, what _happened_? You _won_ , didn't you?! _Please_ tell me you won!"

"I-I-I-" Marinette sobbed. "I-I-"

She sighed, her voice trembling with happiness along the way.

" _I did_."

Pause.

Screams were heard from the other side of the phone.

"MARINETTE, GIRL! GIRL!" Alya said, her voice becoming increasingly shaky. "Girl, I-" was that sobbing Marinette heard? "I'm just _so_ happy for you, girl."

Marinette smiled, tears still running down her cheeks. "I couldn't have done it without you, Alya."

"No girl, that was all you," Alya chuckled. "All you just needed was a little push."

"I mean, it was a lot of push coming from you," Marinette chuckled but the sound came out more as a sigh of relief. It was a terrible attempt at a joke, but Alya nevertheless laughed.

"Hey!" she said playfully.

Marinette laughed. "But they were all very much needed. Thank you so much for all your help, Alya. I couldn't have done it without you."

She heard a smile. "It's not me that did the sewing or the designing, you know."

"I know," Marinette grinned. "But still. _Thank you_." She said it in the sincerest way she knew how.

She heard a smile. "Of course."

After screaming into her pillow some more to release the tension, Marinette decided to call Adrien.

He picked up on the third ring.

" _Hello_?"

She screamed her joy into the phone.

Well… she didn't say that she released _all_ of her tension.

She spent about ten seconds permanently damaging Adrien's hearing until she could speak words.

"I-I-competition-congratulations-hat-" Well… she didn't say that it was _coherent_.

"My Lady?" a worried voice came over the phone. "Are you alright?"

"I-I-I _won_ -"

"Won what?" How he was being so calm over this, she didn't know. "Won what, Marinette?"

"Competition-Gabriel"

She heard a gasp from the phone. "You did?! You _won the bowler hat competition_?!"

Marinette couldn't help but scream out an affirmative.

"Oh wow! _Congratulations_! I knew you could do it!"

Marinette smiled. "Thanks, minou." Okay, _now_ she could speak properly.

"That's so great! Do you think you'll stick around for the photo shoot? It's _your_ hat, after all."

"Of course!" Marinette beamed. "It's a _dream come true_."

She heard a smile. "I'll definitely see you then!"

Marinette's brows furrowed at that. "What do you mean?"

"You don't know?" Adrien began. "I'm wearing the winner's design!"

Realization struck her like a lightning. Her eyes grew wide as her mouth opened to let out a shriek.

"That's so _perfect_!" she gushed. "This is so unbelievable. Everything is going _exactly_ the way I wanted it to," her vision got watery again. " _I-_ " her voice was hoarse. "This-this is like all of my fantasies come to real life."

Adrien chuckled. "Of _course_ _it is_ ," he said mischievously.

She pouted.

"My Lady? Are you still there?"

"Stop flirting for one second, will you? I'm trying to celebrate here."

She heard a soft smile. "Of course. You deserve the world, my Lady."

At that, her cheeks were not only stained with tears but also blushes.

She really had to stop taking him so seriously; he probably said this to all the girls.

But that didn't stop her from grinning so widely her cheeks started to hurt. "Thank you _so much_ , minou."

As a celebration, Alya insisted that they go out for shopping.

It was an enjoyable experience overall. Alya practically dragged Marinette into every shop that was in the vicinity and scrutinized all of the products on display. She occasionally handed Marinette some clothes and shoes to try on, dragging her to the dressing room so that they could play dress up together.

It was fun, Marinette decided. It was fun being somebody else. She became a policewoman, then a model from the fifties, then a forest ranger. She even got to dress up as a princess (a _princess_!), which Alya gushed about endlessly and took pictures on her phone.

(After the photo was taken, the redhead sported a devious grin as she texted furiously to someone, which made Marinette wonder just _who_ she was texting it to.)

Not long after the big fashion show for two, Alya and Marinette were starved and needed a snack.

Fortunately, a hot dog stand passed by just as their stomachs growled, and after paying the man their dues, the two friends decided to slather on enough mustard for the entire sausage to be drowned in yellow.

The mustard bottle was now empty.

Evidently, it did not taste good; Marinette and Alya spent the next thirty minutes of their shopping in getting the nasty taste off their tongues.

"I am never eating mustard again," Alya muttered as she sputtered out noises.

"Agreed," Marinette said as she pointed to an ice cream stand.

"Hey, Alya," Marinette smirked at her best friend. "I know what will get rid of their horrible taste of mustard in our mouths."

And so the two best friends spent an entire three scoops of ice cream trying to get rid of the taste of mustard.

It was no André's, Marinette thought, but the ice cream was nevertheless very good.

Marinette soon found out that Alya never intended to release her from the festivities anytime soon; the redhead insisted that Marinette come sleep over at her house for a further celebration. They marathoned their favorite shows together, gossiped about where their friends were going after high school, and Nino and Alya's love life.

It was at the journalist's love life that conversation took a different route.

"So," Marinette began, "Where are you going after high school?"

"I'm deciding between two universities," Alya chuckled. "Both have really great journalism majors, but one of them specializes in forensic journalism while the other is really just great all-around."

Marinette raised a brow. "Forensic journalism? What's that?"

"It's journalism but you also collect information for courts and the people," Alya grinned. "It's one of the coolest things I've ever seen! It's like, searching for truth _and_ putting the bad guys in prison!" she raised out a fist. "It's like as if I'm an actual superhero!"

The designer giggled. "It fits you really well."

Alya beamed at that. "Thanks, Mari!"

"But what's stopping you?" Marinette said, looking at Alya's nervous body language up and down.

Alya frowned. "It's just that… it's a new field. And I don't think I should be narrowing my path just yet because it's not certain whether or not I can get a job there, yeah?"

The practicality somehow surprised Marinette.

She knew that it shouldn't have; this was _Alya_ they were talking about. But it somehow did. "But isn't it the same with every other job?"

Alya sighed. "I guess you're right. But… there's more uncertainty in what I want to do and I don't like that."

Marinette smiled as she placed a hand on her best friend's lap. "It'll all work out in the end, Alya. I promise." She hugged her best friend.

After their impromptu hug, Alya looked at her and smiled. "Like it did for you, right?"

Marinette grinned shyly. "Like it did for me."

Alya looked at her with wide, curious eyes until she tilted her head back laughing. "Look at me. I've been your official cheerleader for the last five years, encouraging you to chase after your dreams." She shook her head. "But when it comes to me and chasing after my own, I chicken out." She tried a smile, but it came out bittersweet. "I'm such a hypocrite."

Marinette was surprised; she hadn't seen Alya this… lost on anything. In fact, one of the reasons why Marinette admired the redhead was because Alya seemed to always have the right answer and the right direction in which to go.

As for her, Marinette was _always_ lost.

"There's nothing wrong with being scared, Alya. I'm always scared I'll fail or do the wrong thing," she said from experience. Tons and tons of them. "But I've learned that there is something after failure, that there is something that I can look forward to and learn from." Marinette beamed. "I learned it from _you_."

Alya looked at her in surprise. She laughed. Her body language was still stiff, but it was far more relaxed than before. _Good enough._ "I guess I give out great advice, yeah?"

Marinette giggled. "You give out _wonderful_ advice."

Alya was still laughing. "I guess I should take my own advice, then. Follow my _dreams_ , do forensic _journalism_!" her hands wailed at the words. Then, she looked at the designer.

Marinette grinned widely. "That's the spirit."

Suddenly, the redhead's body was thrown around Marinette's arms. Marinette's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden weight upon her arms.

If she hadn't been lifting flour ever since she was young, she might have accidentally given Alya a concussion.

Now _that_ would have been terrible.

"We're going to stay in touch, right?" the voice wobbled a little bit.

 _Don't cry, don't cry._ Marinette sniffled. _Oh, fuck_. "Of course, Alya. We're best friends forever. Till death do us part," she said with a mischievous grin.

Alya chuckled. "Of course," she beamed. "But who's going to take care of my precious Mari _now_?"

Marinette giggled. "I can get by fine with myself, Alya."

Alya gasped. "Nonsense! I've seen you walk straight through red lights, missy! Don't think that I have forgotten about that."

Marinette smiled sheepishly, red tinting her cheeks. "You still remember that?"

"Of course! I almost had a _heart attack_ when that happened!" Well… that did not help her feel better. "What _had_ you been thinking at that time?" she began. "And that time at the burger joint. What _happened_ to you? Was that related to the traffic light incident? I've seen you get a little more down since that thing, and it worries me, Mari," she frowned.

Well, if she was being honest, she had been unable to _physically see_ what was _right_ in front of her because she had been living inside another moment in time.

This problem was also the reason why Marinette had broken down at the burger joint.

But that would sound preposterous to most people, no?

If she told Alya, would she understand? Would she understand and believe her when Marinette said that she had visions from the past and future? That had happened and would happen, and Marinette had _no idea_ how it worked?

Marinette knew that Alya was a practical girl. She was all about facts, she thought seeing was believing. When she couldn't see something, she uncovered everything she could using her investigative skills to see it for herself and share the view in the process. She was one of those trailblazers who went outside the walls because she wanted to see _everything_. Alya was the girl who always disregarded conspiracy theories as silly and paranoid, who willingly walked into dark alleyways because she was sure there "wasn't anything there." Alya had once confessed that she had thought of Santa Clauses and monsters under the bed as an insult to her intellect when she was young and had been pissed at her parents that they would spew such lies to her. The entire idea that a fat white dude would climb up onto her chimney to bring her presents sounded offensive and an invasion of private property to her, she had said to Marinette one day.

Meanwhile, it had taken Marinette quite a while to accept the fact that Santa Claus was actually her parents. And that acceptance had not been a pretty one.

It was one of the main reasons that Marinette admired Alya. Alya was everything she lacked and everything she needed more in her life.

Not that Marinette wanted it. But she needed more of that practicality and spontaneity within Alya that she herself lacked in order to survive in the world. And so, the two covered each other's weaknesses while they were free to use their strengths. Alya was Marinette's anchor while Marinette expanded Alya's horizons. They trusted each other with their lives, their future, and their fears. Hell, Alya was being incredibly vulnerable with Marinette right _now_.

But could Marinette trust that Alya would not disregard the only thing that she had never told anyone else other than her mother? (Who, herself, had not taken it so well as Marinette had hoped?)

Could she trust her with the past, the future, _and_ the present?

She wanted to say yes, she really did. And it sounded like an Alya thing to do. But...

Could she trust that Alya wouldn't say that her visions aren't actually real and that Marinette was deluding herself?

That also sounded like an Alya thing to do, if Marinette was to be honest.

Marinette _wanted_ to tell her; she _did_.

She wanted to tell her everything _so bad_.

But the prospect that her best friend would only deny a big part of Marinette flippantly, was too painful for her to bear.

This had nothing to do with her mother. This was about her best friend.

So Marinette forced herself to smile and said some words to fill the aching in her heart. "I was thinking too hard about a design competition that had been coming up."

Alya chuckled and shook her head fondly. "What are we supposed to do with that tunnel vision of yours, Marinette?"

Marinette chuckled nervously. "I don't know, really."

When Alya thought Marinette wasn't looking, the designer swore that she saw a frown on her best friend's face.

Every time Marinette had been over at Alya's, she had slept in Alya's bed with her best friend because Alya's bed was big enough to fit three giants.

That was how the two girls were found facing away from each other, the bluenette staring at the wall with her back against the rest of the room while the redhead was facing the room but with her back against the wall.

"Marinette?" Alya called. The bed nor the blankets did not stir, indicating a lack of movements.

"Yeah?" Marinette said groggily. She did not turn around; she had been almost ready to go to sleep, but Alya's voice woke her from her half induced state of slumber.

"Were you going to sleep?"

"Yeah," Marinette yawned. "But it's okay. What's up?"

"I just…" the journalist began.

"Yeah?" the designer gently prodded.

"I just want you to know that you can tell me anything. Cause we're best friends, right?" Alya said.

Marinette's heart had never beaten so harshly before.

"O-of course, Alya." Her face morphed into one of guilt.

A loud silence ringed throughout the room.

She only heard a sigh from her best friend.

"Just wanted to let you know. I'm here for you, girl," her best friend's voice sounded uncharacteristically _weak_.

Marinette went to bed frowning and eyes clenched shut a little too tight.

"Okay, I gotta go, Alya," Marinette said happily the next morning. She was about to grab the doorknobs of the front door when she said, "Adrien's helping me with physics and I need all the time I have to pass this test."

Alya wiggled her eyebrows.

Marinette frowned. Her hands rested on the doorknob. "What?"

"You and Adrien are becoming awfully close," she grinned. "You said, what, you've been calling each other every night?"

"Not close in _that_ way, Alya," Marinette rolled her eyes. "We're just friends."

"Who's going to be even closer since your hat won the competition, right?" Alya said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Marinette sighed. It was pointless. She turned the doorknob and angled her body towards the door. "We might get closer as friends, yeah, but don't expect anything else, Alya."

Alya frowned. "Why?"

Marinette was confused. "Why what?"

"Why won't you give him a shot? He seems interested in you and you seem to like him enough."

"Alya," Marinette chuckled, "It's not weird for a guy and a girl to be friends, you know."

"It's also not weird for them to be boyfriend and girlfriend, you know."

Marinette frowned. "Now that is weird."

"Why? What's wrong with Adrien?"

"Nothing!" Marinette said a little louder than she intended. Her eyes widened at how she reacted. "I'm sorry, Alya. I-"

Alya frowned. She crossed her arms and tilted her neck towards Marinette, a silent gesture to _go on_.

Marinette sighed. "It's… it's just that… I don't think I can do a relationship right now. I… I have some things that haunt me and - and I just… don't want someone else to have to deal with it with me."

Alya frowned. "Is this the something that you're not telling me?"

"I-" Marinette sighed. "Yes."

" _Why_ aren't you telling me?" Alya's voice became increasingly louder. Marinette flinched. "Am I not your best friend?"

Marinette bit her lip, feeling terrible. "You are, Alya. But that's exactly the reason I can't tell you… I don't want you to burden you with it," she ducked her head. "Sometimes," she chuckled but it came out strained, "I don't even know if I'm even having these problems. Sometimes I just wonder if I am crazy. That's what you saw at the burger joint the other day," she said. "And so, would people _want_ to deal with me if I am so crazy? Maybe I'd be doing a service to people if I just don't...bother them at all."

Marinette opened the doorknob and ran out the door, not wanting to hear anything Alya might say.

Because she couldn't understand.

Plus, the guilt that she couldn't tell Alya was number when she ran.

 _The moment she saw him, she felt an instant connection with him._

 _She didn't know why. After all, she was born as a lady and he as a peasant. Her skin was pale and his was tan. Her hands were pure and his were calloused._

 _She had never been one to disobey her elders; in fact, she respected them heavily. She knew that her role in the family was to be wed off to the fellow wealthy members of her class. She was expected to be and was groomed in her life for that moment._

 _That moment would be the one that gave her the most purpose. She daydreamed about herself in a wedding gown, being finally a woman and creating a family of her own. Her partner was a blurry blob in her imaginations, of course, because she didn't know what he would be like. But she hoped that he would be handsome, and that he would be kind and gentle to her and strong._

 _But when she saw_ him _, she wasn't sure whether or not her entire life had been set up for a lie._

 _He wasn't a nobleman._

 _She had no idea if he was kind and gentle or not; after all, weren't peasant known to be more brutish and unintelligent?_

 _Okay, well he was handsome. But that was beside the point._

 _Because she was sure that this was one of the greatest moments she could ever have in her_ life _._

 _She didn't know why, but she didn't care about the why._

 _What mattered was what she felt right now._

 _And her getting lost in that ocean of amber brown from afar, and him getting lost in her pitch black ones._

 _Sunlight and darkness._

 _It felt incredibly right._

Marinette's sight got more blurry as she ran, but luckily she had been to Alya's place too many times to count. Thus, Marinette's body knew _exactly_ where to turn and where to go to distract herself from the inevitable, even if there was a vision that blocked her sight. She only hoped that people would move out of the way for her, and they all did, luckily for her.

Until she bumped into a body shorter than hers. Both crashed with a thump on the ground.

"Oh my gosh I am so sorry!" Marinette began. "I wasn't looking where I was going, and I bumped into you." She wiped her arms to chase away the tears. No need to let a stranger know that she had been crying.

She found an elderly Asian man dressed in a red Hawaiian floral shirt and khakis.

"Oh my gosh! I am _so_ sorry! Are you okay, sir?" Marinette said, immediately getting up to her feet to pull the elderly man up. She bent her back to grab the cane for him.

The man coughed. "I am fine, young lady." She handed him his cane. "Thank you." He frowned when he studied her red face. "But it seems that you are not. Is there something wrong?"

She tried on a smile. "It's nothing, sir. I am feeling quite happy now."

It was convincing, even for her who had impeccably high standards for herself.

Unfortunately, the old man did not buy the act.

"Hmm…" the man studied her with an intensity that she squirmed from. It was as if she was a dead frog, and he was dissecting her bit by bit, slowly and meticulously, as he recorded all of his observations down on a notebook.

Marinette found that to be a little bit more than intruding.

And as she was a very personal person, she didn't like how she was being looked at so impersonally.

But those eyes, if she had to say so, seemed like they had depth. Like they held so many secrets that one only couldn't help but no longer attach personally because of the lessons they had learned.

Marinette didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Well," the man finally said. He gave her a grin. " Contrary to what you might believe, mademoiselle, there _are_ people who are facing the same problems as you." She flinched at that. How did he…? "And there are other people who are willing to help you with your problems," he said with a knowing smile.

Those words _stung_ Marinette. She frowned.

But then she remembered that she was talking to the old man and tried on a smile. Respect the elderly, of course.

However, her smile felt more like a grimace. "Thank you for the kind words, kind sir," she bowed, "but I must go," and ran away as fast as possible.

She didn't want to be dissected even further.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_ ** _I swear that this was the chapter that I had been struggling to fill up with words, but whoopsies!  
_** ** _It ended up being the longest chapter so far.  
_** ** _I don't regret it, of course. But LOL at how things work._**

 ** _So we got Marinette being more angsty and Adrien being inappropriately flirty at the wrong times.  
_** ** _Alyanette and secrets, and Master Fu, oh my!  
_** ** _(It was obvious that the old man was Master Fu, right?)_**

 ** _The plot thickens!_**

 ** _All feedback is greatly appreciated! Thank you so much for all of your love :)_**


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